"It seems to me that he lives upon gold," Mr. North interrupted in querulous tones. "There's no end to it."
"Sidney must have money," equably went on madam. "I must have it, for I purpose going away for a time. You will therefore----"
"Goodness me! here's the telegraph man."
This second interruption was also from Mr. North. Telegraphic messages were somewhat rare at Dallory Hall; and its master went into a flutter. His fears flew to his well-beloved son, Dick. The messenger was coming up the broad walk, a despatch in his hand. Mr. North advanced to meet him; madam sailing behind.
"It is for Captain Bohun, sir," spoke up the man, perceiving something of Mr. North's agitation.
"For Captain Bohun!" interposed madam. "Where's it from?"
"London, madam."
Motioning the messenger to go to the house for his receipt, she tore it open without the smallest ceremony, and read its contents:
"Dr. Williams to Arthur Bohun, Esq.:
"James Bohun is dying. Sir Nash wishes you to come up without delay."