The woman, Dorcas, was just opening the parlour shutters. She came to the door when she saw the carriage drawing up to it.
"I want to see your master, Dorcas. I suppose he's up."
"He is up and out, sir," was her reply. "He has been gone about five minutes."
This answer caused the doctor to pause. It should be explained that when the train of sufferers arrived at the station the previous night, Lady Oswald had elected to be accompanied to her home by Mark Cray, not by Dr. Davenal. Whether she was actuated by pure caprice; whether by a better motive--the belief that she was not hurt so much as some other of the sufferers, and that Dr. Davenal's skill would be more needed by them; or whether the recent sudden liking she had taken for Mr. Cray swayed her then, could not be told; never would be told. She seemed to be a little revived at the end of the journey, and she chose that Mark Cray should go home with her. Dr. Davenal had acquiesced, but he whispered a parting word to Mark. "If there is an injury, I suspect it will be found in the ribs, Mark. Look well to it. If you want me, I'm going on to the Infirmary, and shall be at home afterwards."
But, as it appeared, the doctor had not been wanted. At any rate, Mark Cray had not sent for him. And he had stopped now to hear, if he could, Mark's report.
An upper window opened, and Mrs. Cray, completely enveloped in a thick shawl, so that nothing could be seen of her but the tip of her nose, leaned out.
"Good-morning, Uncle Richard."
"Good-morning, my dear. I am glad to see you again. Can you come down for a minute?"
"No, I have not begun to dress. Did you want Mark? He has gone to Lady Oswald's."
"Ah, that's what I wish to ask about. Did you hear Mark say how she was?--whether there was any hurt?"