"He went back wi the carriage that brought 'em. There's trouble afoot about Mr. Denzil as I understond. He said it were life and death, and he were off again inside an hour."
"Ah!" said the doctor, nodding his head knowingly. "That's it, is it? And you don't know what the trouble was?"
"'Life and death,' he said. That's all I know."
"Well, if he bungles the other business as he has done this it'll not need much telling which it'll be." And he blew on his coffee to cool it.
"I must send him word at once," he said presently, "and I'll tell him what I think about it. I've got his town address. You can see to the child all right, I suppose? Another piece of that bread, if you please. Any more coffee there? This kind of thing makes me feel empty."
"I'll see to t' child aw reet."
"Send me word if you need me, not otherwise. There's typhus down Wyvveloe way, and I'm run off my legs. A dog's life, dame--little thanks and less pay!" And he buttoned up his coat fiercely and strode out to his gig. "I'll send John Braddle out," he called back over his shoulder. "But I doubt if we can wait to hear from Sir Denzil. However----" And he drove away, through the slanting morning sunshine.
The white sand-hills smiled happily, the wide flats blazed like a rippled mirror, the sky was brightest blue, and very far away the sea slept quietly behind its banks of yellow sand.