The Doctor took off his spectacles and closed them with a snap; then looking at Sanselme from head to foot, he said:
"You are much interested in Madame. A relative, I presume?"
"That is none of your affairs, sir. I beg you to confine yourself to writing your prescriptions, and I will see that you are paid."
The physician was impressed by the tone in which these words were uttered. He wrote the prescription and went away. Then Sanselme said he would go for the medicine. He was absolutely livid and could hardly stand. He returned in twenty minutes, and met the mistress of the house on the street, where she was waiting.
"Look here!" she said; "I don't like all this in my house, and I am going to bundle Zelda off to the Hospital. I don't want her to die here."
Sanselme hardly heard her.
"Tell me," he said, hastily, "what this woman's name is."
"That is easy enough; I have her papers. It is something like Zeld, and we have got to calling her Zelda—it is more taking, you know."
"Yes, I see; but do you know anything of her past?"
"Not much."