"What is it?" he cried with impatience.
"A note from Mrs. Norton."
At the mention of her name the fine old face softened and then his eyes flashed:
"She is ill?"
"No, sir—but she wants you to help her."
He took the note, placed the candle on the old-fashioned mahogany table in his hall, returned to his room for his glasses, adjusted them with deliberation and read its startling message.
He spoke without looking up:
"You know the road to Schlitz's house?"
"Yes, sir, every foot of it."
"I'll be ready in ten minutes."