“And I want you to give me the use of this house for to-day—and possibly for to-night, if by any chance I should not be able to get her away to-night.”
“Yes, sir, you are free and welcome to the house as far as it’s mine to give leave—and it’s been empty too long for there to be much chance of a tenant turning up between now and to-morrow.”
“Very good. Then I shall send in a little furniture—just enough to make her comfortable for a few hours—and when I come back you can get her something to eat, and make her some tea.”
“Yes, sir. You won’t be gone long, I hope, for fear she should turn violent?”
“She will not do that. She has never been violent.”
“I am very glad to hear that. Appearances are so deceitful sometimes when folks are wrong in their heads.”
Lord Cheriton had told the cabman to wait. He got into the cab and drove to the nearest upholsterer’s, where he hired a table, a comfortable sofa, a couple of chairs, a small square carpet, and some pillows and blankets, in the event of Mrs. Porter having to bivouac in Myrtle Cottage. He meant her only to leave that shelter for a place of restraint, under medical care.
This done, he went to the post-office and telegraphed first to Marian Gray, Hercules Buildings:—
“Your mother is at Myrtle Cottage, Camberwell Grove, and very ill. Go to her without delay.—Cheriton.”
His second telegram was to Dr. Mainwaring, Welbeck Street:—