"Does your travelling-bag lock? Have you a key?"
"Yes."
"Then take these notes." He told her what sum he had given her, opened the packet and made her verify it. She obeyed almost mechanically.
"Now," he went on, "when you get to London, drive straight to the Langham Hotel. I have written it down for you on this paper. Give my name, and they will see that you have a comfortable room, with one for Grover close by. In the morning, as soon as you are rested, telephone to Dr. Danby at this address in Cavendish Square. Let me make a confession, Virginia. He is the man I ought to have called in at first. When I knew him he was a young chap just through his hospital training, who came down here one summer as locum tenens. It was the year of my own accident. I owe it to that man that I did not lose my leg. Now he is a great specialist, at the top of his profession. When we were arranging about your little sister, I would have mentioned him to you; but I found you full of the idea of this new treatment, and I own that I cared so little for the child, or what became of her, that I thought it best you should have your own way. But if there is any hope for her, Danby is your man. If you believe this, do as I say. Override etiquette; take him straight to see Pansy. If there should be any difficulty, refer every one to me; but Danby can advise you how best to proceed; you are safe with him. You will probably have to move the patient, if she is strong enough to stand it. Danby's nursing homes are to be trusted. Take her where he tells you. I think you have your cheque-book, have you not? You can write a cheque for any fees that are necessary. I will pay in money to the bank to meet your demand. Then you can stay at your hotel, and be with your little sister as much as is practicable. Are you taking in what I say?"
"Yes, I am. I—I—don't know what to answer. Thank you. You are being—so—unlike yourself. I feel bewildered. I am sorry I was so rude to you just now, upstairs, and said such things——"
The meek, hoarse voice was so pitiful that he felt tears start to his eyes. "That's all right," he muttered hurriedly. "One thing you have to promise me. You will take care of your own health. Remember, you owe it to me to." He broke off. What did she owe to him but misery? However, she accepted the situation with a simplicity which was to him frankly awful.
"I know. I will try to do what I think you would wish. I realise that I have caused trouble and—and expense, already. It is generous of you to let me go like this. Please tell me, how long may I stay?"
"Virginia!" he said, and dropped his forehead on his hands. She looked at him in dim surprise, but with a mind too full of her own trouble to conceive of his.
"How long?" she persisted gently. "A week?"
"How can I decide how long?" he asked, lifting his haggard face again. "It depends upon the child. I must leave it to you. Stay as long as she needs you. I can say no more than that."