“No card,” said Bar. “Just tell him my name is Wallet, that’s all.”
The thoroughly mystified porter politely showed Bar into the doctor’s reception-room and stalked away to the library with his message.
“Wallet? Wallet?” muttered the doctor, when he received it. “I don’t know any such man. Did he say what was the matter with him?”
“Said as how you were waitin’ for him, sir.”
“Waiting for him? Wallet? Ah, yes, I see. How I wish Judge Danvers were here! John, go over for the judge at once. Tell him I want to see him immediately. Show Mr. Wallet in.”
“In here, sir?”
“Yes, right away. Say to the judge it’s very important.”
Dr. Manning, on advice of his counsel, had kept his loss of the night before, a secret from everybody but his wife, and the dignified porter had not the slightest idea of the tremendous meaning which might be lurking under the very simple name of the “cheeky” visitor.
Whatever may have been the sort of human being which the doctor had pictured to himself as likely to come on such an errand, he was manifestly astonished when our hero was ushered into the library.
“John” would have given something to have “fussed around” and learned a little more, but his master peremptorily hurried him off.