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Will you please come to her at once?" "Next door?" cried the physician. "I didn't know the Nethertons were home!" "Please hasten," begged the man. "I must go back to her. Follow as quickly as you can." The doctor went back upstairs to complete his toilet. "How absurd," protested his wife when she heard the story.
But on the mantel-shelf was the prescription which the doctor had written the night before. He read it, folded it, and put it in his pocket. As he locked the outside door the old gardener came running to him. "Don't you never go up there again, will you?" he pleaded, "not unless you see all the Nethertons home and I come for you myself. You won't, doctor?" "No," said the doctor.
"There is no one at the Nethertons'. I sit where I can see the front door, and no one can enter without my knowing it, and I have been sewing by the window all day. If there were any one in the house, the gardener would have the porch lantern lighted. It is some plot. Some one has designs on you. You must not go." But he went. As he left the room his wife placed a revolver in his pocket.
It was a matter of common remark, however, that considering the amount of money the Nethertons had spent on the place, it was curious they lived there so little. They were nearly always away, up North in the summer and down South in the winter, and over to Paris or London now and then, and when they did come home it was only to entertain a number of guests from the city.
The place was either plunged in gloom or gayety. The old gardener who kept house by himself in the cottage at the back of the yard had things much his own way by far the greater part of the time. Dr. Block and his wife lived next door to the Nethertons, and he and his wife, who were so absurd as to be very happy in each other's company, had the benefit of the beautiful yard.
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