Dr. Whitaker went out, and was gone for upwards of an hour. When he got back, Pod was putting away his papers for the night. "He was dreadfully sick this morning when I was in the room," remarked Pod, quietly, as if there had been no hiatus in the conversation. "In fact, there's hardly a day passes that he isn't dreadfully sick. But of course it's all the liver."
"Ah, ah! he's often sick, is he?" And then Dr. Whitaker whistled a few bars below his breath. "Is his sickness accompanied or followed by any particular pain, or any peculiar sensation, do you know?" he said, in a minute or two.
It is not needful that Pod's answer should be set down here. It is sufficient to say that whatever it was it put a sudden end to the young doctor's careless mood. He lighted another cigar, and made Pod sit down opposite to him, and questioned him closely and minutely for upwards of half an hour; and when at last he let him go, it was with a caution not to say a word to anyone about their interview. "Watch closely, and tell me everything," he said. "To-day is Tuesday; you will come to me at seven on Thursday evening. Contrive to be as much with your master during the interval as you can be without exciting suspicion, and note particularly those points which I have specified."
Fortune favoured Pod next morning more than he would have dared to expect. He was called up, as usual, to take down Mr. Kelvin's notes in shorthand. Kelvin, this morning, seemed feebler than usual, and was obliged to pause several times while dictating his instructions. He had got about half-way through the morning's letters, when Miss Deane came in with a cup of tea in her hand. "Take a little of this, Matthew," she said. "It will help to revive you."
He was sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows. He took the tea and sipped at it. "It's a little too hot," he said. "I will drink it presently."
Olive was in the act of putting the cup and saucer on the little table which stood close to her cousin's hand, when there came a hurried knocking at the room door, and next moment the head of one of the servants was intruded into the room. "Oh! if you please, miss," said the girl, "Mrs. Kelvin has met with a little accident. She slipped just now as she was coming downstairs. I don't think she's much hurt, but she wants you to go at once."
Leaving the cup and saucer on the little table, Olive hurried from the room.
"Send me up word, Olive, as soon as you can, whether anything serious is the matter," her cousin said to her as she was going.
He was evidently anxious. "We will leave the papers for a little while, Piper," he said, presently. "We shall have some news from downstairs before long." Then he took the tea and drank a little of it. "I don't know how it is," he said, more as if speaking to himself than addressing Pod, "but of late everything seems to have such a queer taste."
The cup was still in his fingers when Olive opened the door.