"She'd be a little angry at first, I dare say. But she'd come round. You see, she's a woman, and she loves you. Well, grant, then, that when she first found it out she'd be a little worked up: she'd recognize that you'd done it because you wanted to spare her unhappiness, and because you loved her so; and, though she'd pout and scold for a while, in her heart she'd be glad all the time, and she'd forgive you. Whereas if you go around there and tell her,—good-by Mrs. Ormizon. It'll be all up with you; and she'll swim down to her grave in a flood of tears. Come, my young friend; brace up. Take my advice, and keep your own counsel."
"By Jove, Palmer, I don't know but you're right. You—you really think she'd forgive me?"
"I don't think it. I know it. Forgive you? Why, in the long run she'd love you all the better for it."
"By—by the Lord, Palmer, you—you're a By Jove, old boy, give me your hand. By—my—well, there, I can't—I can't express it—but—oh! you've lifted such a weight off my mind."
"Ouch! Look out!" cried Palmer. "You'll break my wrist, if you keep on wagging my flipper that way. There, there. Calmez-vous. And Hello; there's some one knocking on your door."
"Come in! Entrez!" called Ormizon.
"Ah, bonsoir, monsieur. Here is a letter for you from Mademoiselle Gluck."
The new-comer was Zélie, the servant of the ladies of the Rue Soufflot.
Ormizon took the letter which she held out to him, broke the seal, and read:
"Dear Mr. Ormizon,—Come over here the instant you receive this — without a second's delay. Yours, I. B. G."
"What—what's the matter? Is there anything the matter?" he demanded of Zélie, in a scared, anxious voice.
"Je n'en sais rien, monsieur; mais je crois que Mademoiselle Personette est malade."
That was all the satisfaction he could get from Zélie. She knew nothing, but she believed that Mademoiselle Personette was ill. Particulars of any kind, though he plied her with questions, she protested her inability to give. Dr. Gluck had called her from the kitchen, where she was busy preparing dinner, and had dispatched her with this note, bidding her make haste. "Voilà tout ce que je peux voos dire, monsieur."
Panic-stricken, leaving Lancelot in possession of his quarters, and without a word to him, he hurried to respond to the doctor's summons.
XII.
He gave the bell-cord a tremendous tug. The bell clanged violently within.
After what seemed to him an eon, though, in point of fact, it was not half a minute, Dr. Gluck opened the door.
