“Sir Felix. Did he expect this change for the better?”
“No. He thought that she would gradually get worse.”
“Is there a chance that she will live?” he asked, and his voice was tense with suppressed emotion.
“How can I tell? I am not a doctor.”
“No—you’re a fool,” he said savagely.
He ran along the corridor and down-stairs to the library. There he seized the telephone book and looked up a number which he gave to the Exchange.
“Is that Sir Felix Hellier’s house?—Is your master in?—Tell him that he is wanted immediately—Mr. Gaunt, Park Lane—I will come round myself.”
His face worked with passion as he strode from the room.
“The car at once.”
He gave the order to the butler and looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock.