'There's no getting to Plymouth to-night!' he cried.
'Haven't you got a motor-car here?'
'Yes, but no chauffeur. My car hasn't been used for weeks, as my man has been called up. That is why I am obliged to use horses for everything. You see, my coachman can't drive a car.'
'Didn't Springfield and Buller come in a car?' I asked.
'Yes. But if I remember right, it was in a two-seater.'
'Never mind what it is, as long as it will get to Plymouth. Let us go and speak to them.'
We found the two men with Lorna Bolivick and Norah Blackwater in the library. They had evidently finished dinner, and Springfield was in the act of pouring a liqueur into his coffee as I entered.
'How is the patient?' he asked almost indifferently.
'Very ill indeed,' I replied. 'Unless something is done for him soon, he will die. Could you,' and I turned to Buller, 'motor to Plymouth, and fetch a doctor I will tell you of? I will give you a note for him.'
'Awfully sorry,' said Buller, 'but I daren't drive. My left leg is so weak that I couldn't work the clutch. Springfield had to run us over here to-day. There's barely enough petrol to take us back, either.'