"It is not his thigh. It is something else."

"What?"

She shook her head, to indicate her inability to answer.

Here I must explain that, on the morning after the accident, I had
taken a hansom to the Devonshire Mansion with the intention of paying
a professional visit to Alresca. I was not altogether certain that I
ought to regard the case as mine, but I went. Immediately before my
hansom, however, there had drawn up another hansom in front of the
portals of the Devonshire, and out of that other hansom had stepped
the famous Toddy MacWhister. Great man as Toddy was, he had an eye on
"saxpences," and it was evident that, in spite of the instructions
which he had given me as to the disposal of Alresca, Toddy was
claiming the patient for his own. I retired. It was the only thing I
could do. Two doctors were not needed, and I did not see myself, a
young man scarcely yet escaped from the fear of examinations,
disputing cases with the redoubtable Toddy. I heard afterwards that he
had prolonged his stay in London in order to attend Alresca. So that
I had not seen the tenor since his accident.

"What does Monsieur Alresca want to see me about?" I demanded
cautiously.

"He will tell you," said Rosa, equally cautious.

A silence followed.

"Do you think I upset him--that night?" she asked.