CHAPTER VI
BARNABY CALLS ON THE DOCTOR
Bar Vernon was particularly anxious not to miss the doctor that next morning, if only because the precious wallet was becoming such a dreadful burden to carry.
“I wouldn’t sleep with that thing another night,” he said to himself, “not for the whole hotel,”—forgetting how very little slumbering he had really managed to do.
His anxiety, however, led him into a very judicious piece of extravagance. He could not think of either losing time or exposing himself to any perils by the way; and so he called the first good-looking “hack” carriage he saw empty after leaving the hotel, and was whirled up in front of Dr. Manning’s elegant “brown-stone front,” on one of the most fashionable up-town streets, in something like proper style.
For all that, however, the dignified servant who answered Bar’s pull at the door-bell looked down a little loftily on so very young and healthy-looking a “patient.”
“Dr. Manning does not wish to see any one this morning——”
“Never mind that,” interrupted Bar. “He is waiting for me. Just give him my name.”
“Card, sir?”