There stood the messenger, a rosy-faced
urchin of about twelve, with rather sleepy brown eyes.
"Come up," Julian said, and he hurried back to the flat, the little boy
violently emulating his giant stride up the stairs and arriving flushed
and panting at the door. Julian, who was entirely abstracted in his
agitation, made for the tentroom without another word to the boy, seized
pen and paper and began to write, urgently requesting Dr. Levillier to
come at once to see Valentine. Abruptly a childish voice intruded itself
upon him.
"Lor', sir," it said. "Is the gentleman ill?"
Julian glanced up and found that the little boy had innocently followed
him into the tentroom, and was now standing near him, gazing with a
round-eyed concern upon the stretched figure on the divan.
"Yes," Julian replied; "ill, very ill. I want you to go for a doctor."
The boy approached the divan, moved apparently by the impelling curiosity
of tender years. Julian stopped writing and watched him. He leaned down
and looked at the face, at the inertia of hands and limbs. As he raised
himself up from a calm and close inspection he saw Julian staring at him.
He shook his round bullet head, on which the thick hair grew in an
unparted stubble.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123