"At twelve o'clock, Mr. Voss, I have a delicate and difficult
operation to perform, and I have too short a time now for the
preparation I need. I am sure you can rely fully on my assistant,
Doctor Angler."

"No, no!" replied Mr. Voss, waving his hand almost impatiently. "I do
not want Doctor Angier. You must see Mrs. Voss yourself."

He was imperative, almost angry. What was the delicate and difficult
operation to him? What was anything or anybody that stood in the way
of succor for his imperiled wife? He could not pause to think of
others' needs or danger.

Doctor Hillhouse had to decide quickly, and his decision was on the
side where pressure was strongest. He could not deny Mr. Voss.

He found the poor distressed mother in a condition of utter
prostration. For a little while after coming out of the swoon into
which her first wild fears had thrown her, she had been able to
maintain a tolerably calm exterior. But the very effort to do this
was a draught on her strength, and in a few hours, under the
continued suspense of waiting and hearing nothing from her boy, the
overstrained nerves broke down again, and she sunk into a condition
of half-conscious suffering that was painful to see.

For such conditions medicine can do but little. All that Doctor
Hillhouse ventured to prescribe was a quieting draught. It was after
eleven o'clock when he got back to his office, where he found Mr.
Ridley waiting for him with a note from Doctor Ainsworth.