"How is she, doctor?" he asked, in a hoarse, panting whisper.

"She is very sick, Mr. Ridley," replied Dr. Hillhouse. "It would be
wrong to deceive you."

The pale, haggard face of Mr. Ridley grew whiter.

"Oh, doctor," he gasped, "can nothing be done?"

"I think we had better call in another physician," replied the
doctor. "In the multitude of counselors there is wisdom. Have you
any choice?"

But Mr. Ridley had none.

"Shall it be Dr. Ainsworth? He has large experience in this class of
diseases."

"I leave it entirely with you, Dr. Hillhouse. Get the best advice
and help the city affords, and for God's sake save my wife."

The doctor went away, and Mr. Ridley, shaking with nervous tremors,
dropped weak and helpless into a chair and bending forward until his
head rested on his knees, sat crouching down, an image of suffering
and despair.