straight for Stimcoe's.



CHAPTER X.


NEWS.

By great good fortune, Mr. Stimcoe had been drinking the health of
the returned prisoners until his own was temporarily affected.
In fact, as I reached Delamere Terrace, panting and excogitating the
likeliest excuse to offer Mrs. Stimcoe, the door of No. 7 opened, and
the lady herself emerged upon the night, with a shawl swathed
carelessly over her masculine neck and shoulders.

I drew up and ducked aside to avoid recognition, but she halted under
the lamp and called to me, in no very severe voice--

"Harry!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"You are late, and I have been needing you. Mr. Stimcoe is suffering
from an attack."

"Indeed, ma'am?" said I. "Shall I run for Dr. Spargo?"

She stood for a moment considering. "No," she decided; "I had better
fetch Dr. Spargo myself. Being more familiar with the symptoms, I