CHAPTER EIGHT
The study clock chimed out the hour of seven, and, laying aside the paper she had been looking at, Nancy got up from her chair and walked to the window. She drew back the blind, and stood there for a minute gazing down at, the lighted pavements, where the usual throng of poorly dressed women were drifting to and fro, intent upon their evening shopping. Then with a puzzled and rather anxious expression in her face she turned toward the door, and, descending the staircase, made her way along the passage as far as the kitchen.
She found Martha Jane standing at the sink, peeling potatoes.
"I can't think what can have happened to Doctor Gray, Martha," she said. "I'm really beginning to get worried about him."
"Don't you upset yerself, miss," was the reassuring answer. "'E'll be along safe enough in a minute or two."
"I hope so," said Nancy. "All the same, it seems rather extraordinary. You tell me he said he'd be home by six, and here it is just gone seven."
"You can't pay no 'eed to what doctors say," began Martha Jane. "Not that they ain't as truthful as other gentlemen, but——"
She was interrupted by a ring at the back-door bell, and, wiping her hands on her apron, departed to answer the summons. Nancy heard the low rumble of a man's voice, followed almost immediately by the sound of returning footsteps.
"It's the same party that called before, Miss Nancy. A man of the name of Bates. The doctor said he wanted to see 'im special, so I s'pose I'd better ask 'im to wait."