The widow of Carsphairn turned over on her pillow and moaned slightly. Her face was flushed, and it was evident to Ena that the last words she had uttered the sick woman had not understood.
So she took her leave, and on descending the stairs to the wide hall, again encountered the proprietor's wife.
"My friend Mrs. Morrison seems very unwell," said Ena. "I can't make it out at all. I do hope the doctor will discover what is the matter with her."
"Doctor Tressider is my own doctor," replied the woman. "He'll be here again before dinner time, and I hope he won't find anything really very wrong."
"Well, whatever he says, would you mind letting me know over the 'phone?" asked Ena, taking out her visiting-card, upon which was printed her telephone number.
"And if there is anything serious I'll come round at once," she said.
So they parted, and Ena hailed a taxi outside, and returned to Upper Brook Street well satisfied with her morning's work.
Next day passed, but though Ena remained at home in a high state of anxiety, she received no message from Lancaster Gate.
At eight o'clock she rang up, and spoke to the proprietress of the hotel.
"Mrs. Morrison is certainly not quite so well as she was yesterday, but though Doctor Tressider has been twice to-day he has not yet been able to diagnose the complaint."
"Is she in pain?" asked Mrs. Pollen sympathetically.
"No. She does not complain. But no doubt we shall know more to-morrow."
"Very well. Please tell her I inquired, and to-morrow, about eleven, I'll call and see her again."
And, having rung off, she spoke to Lilla, telling her of the conversation.
"You'll go to-morrow and see her, my dear," urged Boyne's wife. "Bernard is here. I'll tell him."
"Oh, for the present she's all right. She's gone back to Wimbledon. The telegrams have satisfied her."
"Right! Then I'll see you to-morrow after I've been to Lancaster Gate," said the Red Widow, and then they broke off the conversation.
"Well, the doctor doesn't know yet what's the matter," Lilla afterwards said to Boyne, who was sitting in the handsome drawing-room.
"Oh! he will to-morrow--never fear!" was the man's grim reply. "He must be a duffer if he doesn't recognise the symptoms. I expected him to know yesterday."