"I—we have just telegraphed to you, Mr. Stevens."
"Hah! What about?"
"Mr. Drayton is very ill, and Margaret—we wanted you to go to her."
"Just what I feared," he said; "I had a letter from Sir Albert Gerald, who has been corresponding with me about some Welsh property, some mines, &c.; he said he felt sure Mr. Drayton was too ill to be looked after only by his wife; that he was convinced, from the way he was behaving, that his mind was affected. I came here because I thought I should get full particulars. I am ready to go at once and see if I can be of use."
"Thank you," said Mrs. Dorriman, warmly; "shall I show you the telegram, and would you like to see my brother?"
"I need not disturb your brother. Yes, show me the telegram."
Mrs. Dorriman left the room, leaving Mr. Stevens pacing up and down the room.
"What a horrible shame it was letting any young girl marry him!" he muttered; "and Sandford knew it, for I myself told him."
He took the telegram from Mrs. Dorriman's hand as she entered, and, crumpling it up, he said, "Good-bye," and, before Mrs. Dorriman had fairly realised he was there, he had gone.
She sat down for a moment or two to recover herself, conscious that a powerful help had suddenly been given her in Mr. Stevens.