walking up stairs."

As she said this, she rang the bell at the head of her bed. Her maid, who
had been listening at the door, entered at once.--I had all this from
Adela herself afterwards.

"Emma, bring me my desk. Dr. Wade, there must be some mistake. It was my
aunt, Mrs. Cathcart, who sent for you. Had she given me the opportunity, I
would have begged that the interview might take place in her room instead
of mine."

Dr. Wade retreated towards the fireplace, where Mrs. Cathcart stood, quite
aware that she had got herself into a mess of no ordinary complication.
Yet she persisted in her cunning. She lifted her finger to her forehead.

"Ah?" said Dr. Wade.

"Yes," said Mrs. Cathcart.

"Wandering?"

"Dreadfully."

After some more whispering, the doctor sat down to write a prescription.
But meantime, Adela was busy writing another. What she wrote was precisely
to this effect--

"Dear Mr. Armstrong,

"I have caught a bad cold, and my aunt has let loose Dr. Wade upon me.