"Mr. Wetherall!" cried one; "Mr. Wetherall!" cried another—"You're wanted directly—Mr. Russel wants you—you're to go to his room—-he has sent out half a dozen times to inquire if you were come." More dead than alive Mr. Wetherall turned his steps to Mr. Russel's room. You're late, Sir," said that gentleman in a tone of displeasure. "I have been wanting you this half hour to speak about a very unpleasant affair that has occurred in your department—But you're ill, Sir," added he, observing that Mr. Wetherall had sought the support of the table to keep himself from falling.
"I am not very well," answered Mr. Wetherall, passing his hand over his brow.
"Then I had better put off what I have to say to another opportunity," said Mr. Russel.
"Oh no, Sir," replied Mr. Wetherall, somewhat relieved by this last speech, which seemed to imply that the thing was not so very important. "I feel better now. There's been no neglect in my department, I hope, Sir?"
"There has been something very wrong in your department," replied Mr. Russel, "but I have got to learn who is the delinquent—but I see you're getting ill again, Sir; you had better send for a coach and go home. Here,
