"It sounds so silly," Christina said with seeming irrelevance, "but—I didn't think the person who lived in—this kind of room—was the sort of doctor I wanted to find."
Fergusson threw back his head and laughed.
"Do you judge all humanity by the rooms in which it lives?" he asked.
"Nobody but a commonplace person could live contentedly in a room like this," Christina answered vehemently, "or call his house Pinewood Lodge, or have a house just like this house."
"I rather agree with you, but Doctor Stokes is a total stranger to me too; we may be libelling him entirely; and—meanwhile, what can I do for you?
"I have come to ask you to go somewhere, on a matter of life and death," she answered, "but——"
"Life and death?"—the doctor's smiling face grew grave—"then we must not delay. Where am I wanted?" He touched a bell by the fireplace. "I will order the car at once. Tell me all details as briefly as possible."
His humorous accent had dropped; he spoke in terse, business-like tones, his brown eyes looked searchingly at her.
"Bring the car round immediately," he said to a man who answered his bell. "Now, tell me everything quickly," he went on, turning back to Christina.
"Before you go, I have to ask you to promise not to tell any living soul where you have been; and you must swear to tell nobody what you see and hear when you get to the house."