“None that I know of.”
“I fear there can be little doubt as to her malady. Will you take me to her? She will be less alarmed if you are with me. Oh, by the bye, the nurse you asked for will be here almost immediately.”
“I am glad of that. There is only a wretched slattern in the house, whom I don’t like to see in attendance upon my poor friend.”
Lord Cheriton and the doctor went into the room, where Mrs. Porter was sitting facing the window, staring moodily at the trailing tendrils of Virginia creeper and passion-flower hanging from the roof of the verandah and shutting out the light. There was something unspeakably desolate in that glimpse of neglected garden seen athwart the neglected verdure, with the smoky London sky as a background.
She looked round quickly at the sound of footsteps, and started up from her chair.
“Who is this man?” she asked, turning to Lord Cheriton. “Are you going to send me to prison? You have lost no time.”
“This gentleman is my old friend, and he is interested in helping you if he can.”
“You had better leave us together,” said Dr. Mainwaring, gently.
Lord Cheriton left the room silently, and paced the narrow entrance hall, listening with intense anxiety to the low murmuring sound of voices on the other side of the door.
There were no loud tones from either speaker. There could be neither anger nor profound agitation upon Mrs. Porter’s side, the listener thought, as he awaited the result of the interview. A knock at the hall-door startled him from his expectancy, and he hastened to admit the new arrival.