A footstep crunched the wet gravel at Langholm's back.
"Thank God you've got back, sir!" cried a Yorkshire voice in devout accents; and Langholm, turning, met the troubled face and tired eyes of the woman next door, who kept house for him while living in her own.
"My dear Mrs.Brunton," he exclaimed, "what on earth has happened?
You didn't expect me earlier, did you?
I wired you my train first thing this morning." "Oh, no, it isn't that, sir.

It's--it's the poor young gentleman--" And her apron went to her eyes.
"What young gentleman, Mrs.Brunton ?" "Him 'at you saw i' London an' sent all this way for change of air! He wasn't fit to travel half the distance.

I've been nursing of him all night and all day too." "A young gentleman, and sent by me ?" Langholm's face was blank until a harsh light broke over it.

"What's his name, Mrs.Brunton ?" "I can't tell you, sir.

He said he was a friend of yours, and that was all before he took ill.