"What a wreck! What a terrible wreck!" murmured the baronet. "I--I never dreamt that he was half as bad as this."
Dr. Whitaker put something to the sick man's nostrils, which he inhaled eagerly, and presently he began to revive.
"I trust. Sir Thomas, that you will pardon my intrusion," he said, at last, speaking in a strange, husky voice, that was little more than a whisper, and was totally unlike the well-remembered voice--clear and confident--of Matthew Kelvin. "That my business here is of a very pressing kind you may well believe, when you see me thus and so attended."
"Whatever your business may be, Kelvin," said the baronet, kindly, "it is almost a pity that you did not put it off till you were a little stronger, or else that you did not send for me. I would have gone to see you willingly. You know that."
"Yes, yes; I know all you can say," said Kelvin, a little querulously. "But it was necessary that I should come here in person, and without an hour's delay."
"You don't mean to say that there's going to be a dissolution of Parliament?" cried Sir Thomas, eagerly.
Kelvin, smiling faintly, shook his head.
"Ah! I was afraid there was no such luck," said the baronet.
"I am here on the same errand that brought Miss Deane here this morning."
"But Miss Deane has told us everything, and a queer story it is."