Fergusson stared at her blankly.
"Swear secrecy about where I go, and what I find there?" he said.
"Yes—swear it," she answered, quailing a little before the sudden sternness of his eyes.
"But why?—in heaven's name, why?" he questioned, his voice growing imperious. "What reason can you have for making such extraordinary conditions?"
"Oh!—I have nothing to do with the conditions," Christina cried, "and please—please don't look doubtful, and as if you didn't mean to do what I ask. I have only come here as a messenger. There was nobody else to send, and the poor, beautiful lady seemed nearly distracted with grief."
"What poor, beautiful lady? You are talking in riddles. Try to tell me quietly where I have to go, and what is the name of the lady who needs me."
"I—don't know," Christina faltered, conscious of how strangely her words must fall upon his ears, when she saw the bewilderment deepen on his face.
"I was passing a house," she said quickly, before he could speak, "and a lady came running out—a very beautiful lady. She asked me to fetch a doctor. She said it was a matter of life and death, and she made me promise to ask the doctor to swear secrecy—absolute secrecy. That is all I know—really all I know. But I am sure she is urgently in need of help."
"What an extraordinary story!" the doctor said in a low voice, "and you don't know who is ill? or what is the matter?"
"Not in the least. I conclude the patient is a man, because the lady spoke of 'him' and 'he,' but I know nothing more than I have told you. You will go to her? You will make the promise she asks? I can't bear to think of her sad, beautiful face, and her wonderful eyes."