“Here is a note from her, entreating you to accede to the request of Mr. Mortimer Lightwood, the bearer. Mr. Riah chances to know that I am Mr. Mortimer Lightwood, and will tell you so.”

Riah bent his head in corroboration.

“Will you read the note?”

“It’s very short,” said Jenny, with a look of wonder, when she had read it.

“There was no time to make it longer. Time was so very precious. My dear friend Mr. Eugene Wrayburn is dying.”

The dressmaker clasped her hands, and uttered a little piteous cry.