I darted off on my unenviable quest, meeting the doctor on the stairs. I knew the house in the court by this time, and was myself well-known to its inmates.
The woman was not at home; she had not been home since the morning, and no one knew where she was. I left a message apprising her of what had happened, and telling her to come at once to the lodgings. Then with much foreboding I hastened back to Drury Lane.
The evening had been a strangely different one from what I had expected. I was to have broken the news to Jack of his father’s discovery, instead of which, here was I rushing frantically about trying to find an unhappy woman and summon her to what, for all I knew, might be the death-bed of her son!
I found when I returned that Billy had somewhat revived. He was lying back, very white still, and apparently unconscious, but they told me the doctor had given some hope of his recovery, and that the fits of sickness had stopped and left him stronger.
My uncle, whose concern for the poor boy was scarcely less than ours, had relieved Jack at the patient’s bedside. Jack, who, now that the imminent anxiety was over, had given way to a natural reaction, was, I could see, in a terrible state of misery and rage.
“If he dies,” muttered he to me, “I’ll—”
What he meant to say I do not know. He stopped short and flung himself in the empty seat by the window, trembling all over. I had never known before how fond he was of the poor boy.
“What about his mother?” he said presently, turning to me.
“I couldn’t find her, or hear of her anywhere,” I said. “But I left a message for her.”
Just then my uncle beckoned with his hand.