leisurely down the passage, then, casting a hasty glance behind her,
for fear Mrs. Staines should be watching her, hurried into the doctor's
room. They met at once in the middle of the room, and Mrs. Briscoe burst
out, "Sir, it is known all over the house!"

"Heaven forbid! What is known?"

"What you would give the world to keep from her. Why, sir, the moment
you cautioned me, of course I saw there was trouble. But little I
thought--sir, not a servant in the kitchen or the stable but knows that
her husband--poor thing! poor thing!--Ah! there goes the housemaid--to
have a look at her."

"Stop her!"

Mrs. Briscoe had not waited for this; she rushed after the woman, and
told her Mrs. Staines was sleeping, and the room must not be entered on
any account.

"Oh, very well," said the maid, rather sullenly.

Mrs. Briscoe saw her return to the kitchen, and came back to Dr.
Staines; he was pacing the room in torments of anxiety.

"Doctor," said she, "it is the old story: 'Servants' friends, the
master's enemies.' An old servant came here to gossip with her friend
the cook (she never could abide her while they were together, by all
accounts), and told her the whole story of his being drowned at sea."

Dr. Philip groaned, "Cursed chatterbox!" said he. "What is to be done?