“I would go and see the two great consultants who were called in when little Piers was so ill.”
“That is a capital idea,” he said, and his brow cleared.
“The two great consultants,” she called after him, as he left the room. “You’ll visit them both. Ask them if their verdict coincides with that of Luke Tarbot, and then go to the chemist, Dick, and get a copy of the prescription for yourself.”
“Good, good!” he answered. “You’re a wife in a thousand, Bab.” He kissed her affectionately.
Pelham felt too much excited to eat any breakfast. He went into the Park and wandered about until it was late enough to visit Sir Richard Spears. When at ten o’clock he presented himself at the house of the great specialist his eyes were gleaming brightly, but the rest of his face looked haggard. He asked if the doctor was in. The servant replied in the affirmative. Pelham then inquired if he might see him.
“Have you an appointment, sir?” asked the man.
“No; but, all the same, it is most urgent that I should see him as soon as possible.” As Pelham spoke he produced his card. The man looked at it.
“I will inquire if the doctor can see you, sir. You are early, and it maybe possible that he can give you an interview before his other patients arrive.”
The man took Pelham’s card into the doctor’s inner sanctum. He soon reappeared and motioned Pelham to follow him.
Sir Richard Spears had keen eyes. As patient after patient appeared before him he was wont to give each a quick glance, after which he scarcely troubled to watch their faces again. In that glance, as a rule, he found out what was the matter with each of those who came to ask him for relief.
“A highly disordered nervous condition,” was his comment with regard to Pelham.
“Sit down. What can I do for you?” he asked.
“You can answer a question,” said Pelham.
“About yourself? You come to me as a patient?”
“In one sense, yes, in another, no. I am very much troubled, and I think it just possible that you may be able to relieve me.”
“I have come to ask you a question,” interrupted Pelham, “and I am willing to pay the ordinary fee. Will you answer it?”
“Ask it and then I will tell you,” said the doctor.
“My question is this: You saw little Sir Piers Pelham during his last illness. You saw him, I am given to understand, in consultation with Dr. Tarbot of Harley Street?”