"I think you understand me," I said. "Stay here until you see me again, and if I require you to fetch a policeman, be as quick about it as you can."
The man nodded, and I ran up the broken steps of 110.
The door possessed no knocker, but there was a bell at the side.
I had to pull it twice before it was answered; then a slatternly and tawdrily dressed servant put in an appearance. Her face was dirty. She had pinned a cap in hot haste on her frowzy head of red hair, and was struggling to tie an apron as she opened the door.
"Is Mr. Tollemache in?" I asked. "I wish to see him at once."
The girl's face became watchful and secretive—she placed herself between me and the hall.
"There's a gentleman upstairs," she said; "but you can't see him, he's ill."
"Oh, yes, I can," I answered. "I am his doctor—let me pass, please. Mr. Tollemache has telegraphed for his dressing-case, and I have replied to the telegram."
"Oh, if you have brought the parcel, you can go up," she said, in a voice of great relief. "I know they're expecting a parcel. You'll find 'em all on the first floor. Door just opposite the stairs—you can't miss it."
I pushed past her and ran up the stairs. They were narrow and dark. The carpet on which I trod felt greasy.