"Mrs. Brown!" he cried, in a loud voice, hurrying across the room towards an inner door as he spoke.
The inner door was opened before Paul could reach it, and a woman appeared; a tall, gaunt–looking woman, with a hard face and bare, brawny arms.
"Where, in Heaven's name, have you been hiding yourself, woman?" Paul cried impatiently. "And where's––your patient?"
"Gone, sir."
"Gone! Where?"
"With her stepmamma, Mrs. Marchmont––not half an hour ago. As it was your wish I should stop behind to clear up, I've done so, sir; but I did think it would have been better for me to have gone with––––"
Paul clutched the woman by the arm, and dragged her towards him.
"Are you mad?" he cried, with an oath. "Are you mad, or drunk? Who gave you leave to let that woman go? Who––––?"
He couldn't finish the sentence. His throat grew dry, and he gasped for breath; while all the blood in his body seemed to rush into his swollen forehead.
"You sent Mrs. Marchmont to fetch my patient away, sir," exclaimed the woman, looking frightened. "You did, didn't you? She said so!"