“I am sorry you cannot give me a welcome, Pelham,” said the other man. He came forward as he spoke, and held out his hand. “Have you been to see little Sir Piers?”
“Yes,” answered Pelham.
“What did you think of him?”
“He seems very weak. I don’t much like his state.”
“Oh, we’ll pull him through,” said Tarbot, speaking in a cheerful tone. “I am glad you went to see him; he has taken a great fancy to you.”
“We were always the best of chums,” said Pelham shortly. “Take a chair, won’t you? Can I do anything?”
“That’s a civil way of asking why I take the liberty of calling. The fact is, I have come on a matter of great importance.”
Pelham remained motionless. He had not seated himself, but stood on the hearth where Tarbot had stood a minute or two before. His blue eyes were fixed upon Luke Tarbot’s face. The surgeon gazed straight up at the young man.
“So you are engaged to Barbara Evershed,” Tarbot said abruptly.
“Yes; but how do you know?” Pelham’s face was crimson.