And the doctor, cursing his bad luck, and feeling what he very seldom felt, thoroughly angry, said ungraciously: "What is the matter? Can't you tell me without my getting out of bed?"
Last night's excellent dinner, which couldn't have hurt any healthy man, had evidently upset the unhealthy millionaire.
"Can't you hear?" whispered Tapster. His teeth were, chattering; he certainly looked very ill.
"Hear! Hear what?"
Tapster held up his hand. And then, yes, the man sitting up in the big four-post bed did hear some very curious noises. It was as if furniture was being thrown violently about, and as if crockery was being smashed—but a very, very long way off.
This was certainly most extraordinary! He had done Tapster an injustice.
He jumped out of bed. "Wait a minute!" he exclaimed. "I'll get my dressing-gown, and we'll go and see what it's all about. What extraordinary sounds! Where on earth do they come from?"
"They come from the servants' quarters," said Tapster.
There came a sudden silence, and then an awful crash.
"How long have these noises gone on?" asked Panton.