Let us look upon Mr. Lambert as he enters his chamber, leaning upon the arm of his valet. The note has been placed in plain view from his lounging chair, and he notices it as soon as he has taken his seat.
"Who sent that?" he asks.
The tone is much softer than when Marion called last. Perhaps his sickness has weakened him.
"Miss Howard called, sir, and finding you out, wrote her errand."
"Glad I was away." Even while uttering the words he felt that they were untrue.
He took the note in his hands,—thin, bony hands, showing his sickness. "Get me some gruel," he said, "I'm tired, and shall try to sleep."
"Shall I say you cannot see any one?"
"How many times must I repeat that I see no one but the doctor?"