As soon as the doctors had finished luncheon, Mrs. Grant was sent for. She arrived in a state of great agitation; she feared that Sir Alexander was in the last extremity.
Dr. Hardy, the senior physician, a pale, soft-voiced, self-contained man of few words, was the spokesman. He said:
"You will be glad to hear, and you will be kind enough to inform Miss Midharst, that there is no cause for any alarm on account of the present condition of Sir Alexander."
Mrs. Grant looked infinitely relieved. Strange and unsympathetic a father as the invalid had been, she did not like the thought of having to tell anything dreadful about him to Maud.
"I am glad to hear it. Shall I go at once and tell Miss Midharst the good news?"
Dr. Hardy held up his hand with a gesture which said quite plainly: "If you will be so kind as to confine your attention to me, you may rest assured of knowing explicitly what I wish to have done in this matter." Having allowed the gesture a little while to sink into the mind of Mrs. Grant, he went on with his lips:
"But," he said, with strong emphasis on the conjunction, to show Mrs. Grant that she had interrupted him, and that he regarded the interruption as frivolous, "the case has now arrived at that state of progress when almost at any time the patient's head may be attacked. Should the head be attacked, Sir Alexander will lose the possession of those mental gifts and powers which he now possesses undiminished and unimpaired."
"Poor child!" cried the widow, thinking of the guileless daughter of the stricken man.
"And," continued Dr. Hardy, with the same resolute emphasis on the conjunction, "we consider that he should be at once induced to make his will, and we have resolved to request you will use your influence with him. We have tried and failed. May we count on you?"
Mrs. Grant looked up with a half-amused, half-astonished air. As soon as she had somewhat recovered from her surprise, she said very earnestly: