A telegram was an event. Mr. Guildford’s beat lay within a very small radius, being entirely confined to Sothernbay itself. Now and then, at long intervals, he had been summoned to town to a consultation with one of the great men who wanted his report on some case he had been watching, but this happened rarely, and he knew of nothing of the kind impending at present. So it was with some curiosity he opened the big envelope and glanced at its contents.
“Colonel Methvyn,
“Greystone Abbey.”
To Edmond Guildford, Esq.,
“Sothernbay.
“Pray come by first train. The case is very urgent. A carriage shall be at Haverstock Station. Dr. Farmer has given me your address.”
The summons was a very unusual one. Mr. Guildford had once met Dr. Farmer, but he had never been at Haverstock, except when passing through the station in the railway; he did not remember ever having heard of Colonel Methvyn, or of Greystone Abbey, for in the few years he had been at Sothernbay he had had no leisure for exploring the neighbourhood, and his rare holidays had been spent at a distance. No doubt the message came from some county family near Haverstock, but this did not render it the less surprising, for all the county families had their own country doctors for ordinary cases, and for extraordinary ones—when they were very ill indeed—they either went to town to consult one of the great authorities, or summoned him to come to them. For there was a very orthodox amount of ill feeling towards Sothernbay on the part of the county, which, to do the little watering-place justice, it entirely reciprocated.
Mr. Guildford looked about for a railway guide; there was one on his table, but it was not of recent date. Then he remembered that his sister, who had only arrived the week before, would probably have a newer one. He was just leaving his room in search of it, when the front door bell rang, and Mrs. Crichton came in; she had been at an evening service, and shivered with cold, notwithstanding her wraps.
“It is colder than ever, Edmond, I do believe,” she exclaimed, as she saw her brother.
“Yes, I almost think it is,” he answered absently. “Bessie, have you a Bradshaw for this month?”