What was wrong downstairs I knew not, but I felt very anxious with this new complication.
It takes time to write this, Brown, but the whole business, from start to finish, had occurred in a few seconds, and, to make matters worse, who should appear in the doorway but the sick man's mother and sister.
"Why, whatever is the matter?" inquired the elder lady breathlessly. "Has this house gone mad?"
Rushing up to the man, who was still calling out and howling, she put her hand on his head.
"What have you done. Dr. d'Escombe?" she asked severely. "Poor boy—my poor dear boy!" addressing the fat-faced son, who kept on murmuring "Help! murder!"
The old lady looked suspiciously at me. "Something has brought him to this state, and Martha is not here, doctor. What does this mean?"
"Don't be alarmed, madam," I said as quietly as I could. The position was very awkward, especially with that broken needle to be reckoned with. And then, Rita! I must go and find out what was wrong with her.
"There has been some accident downstairs,
