"See Mr. Abingdon after luncheon, dear, and tell him what I am doing. I will return to-morrow; meanwhile, I will keep you informed by telegraph of my movements."
After leaving the main line at York there was a tiresome crawl to the coast, broken by changes at junctions—wearying intervals spent in pacing monotonous platforms.
At last the train reached Scarsdale at twenty minutes to seven. A few passengers alighted. The place was evidently a small village not given over to the incursions of summer visitors.
A tall man, with "doctor" writ large on his silk hat and frock coat, approached Philip.
"Mr. Anson?"
"Yes."
"I am Dr. Williams. I have brought you a letter from Lady Morland. Perhaps you will read it now. I expect it explains my errand."
"Sir Philip is still living?"
"Yes, but sinking fast."
Anson tore open the note. It was brief.