I spent most of the day
hovering about Neil Paraday's room, but it was communicated to me
from below that Guy Walsingham, at Prestidge, was a success.
Toward evening I became conscious somehow that her superiority was
contagious, and by the time the company separated for the night I
was sure the larger latitude had been generally accepted. I
thought of Dora Forbes and felt that he had no time to lose.
Before dinner I received a telegram from Lady Augusta Minch. "Lord
Dorimont thinks he must have left bundle in train--enquire." How
could I enquire--if I was to take the word as a command? I was too
worried and now too alarmed about Neil Paraday. The Doctor came
back, and it was an immense satisfaction to me to be sure he was
wise and interested. He was proud of being called to so
distinguished a patient, but he admitted to me that night that my
friend was gravely ill. It was really a relapse, a recrudescence
of his old malady. There could be no question of moving him: we
must at any rate see first, on the spot, what turn his condition
would take. Meanwhile, on the morrow, he was to have a nurse. On
the morrow the dear man was easier, and my spirits rose to such
cheerfulness that I could almost laugh over Lady Augusta's second
telegram: "Lord Dorimont's servant been to station--nothing found.
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