“Yes, I un’stan.’ But why does this gennlem’n⁠—?”

“Now it’s of no use for you to ask a lot of questions,” Mrs. Schallibaum said playfully; “we’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, doctor. I’ll light you down the stairs, but I won’t come down with you, or the patient will be falling asleep again.”

Taking this definite dismissal, I retired, followed by a dreamily surprised glance from the sick man. The housekeeper held the candle over the balusters until I reached the bottom of the stairs, when I perceived through the open door along the passage a glimmer of light from the carriage lamps. The coachman was standing just outside, faintly illuminated by the very dim lamplight, and as I stepped into the carriage he remarked in his Scotch dialect that I “seemed to have been makin’ a nicht of it.” He did not wait for any reply⁠—none being in fact needed⁠—but shut the door and locked it.