His
flat was on the first floor; before reaching it he began to shed
tears, and to beg that his medical man might be called immediately.
The door was opened by a middle-aged woman dressed as a housekeeper,
who viewed his lordship with no great concern. She promised to send
a messenger to the doctor's, and left the two men alone in a room
comfortably furnished, but without elegance or expensiveness. Gammon
waited upon the invalid, placed him at ease by the fireside, and
reached him a cellaret from a cupboard full of various liquors. A
few draughts of a restorative enabled Lord Polperro to articulate,
and he inquired if any letters had arrived for him.
"Look on the writing table, Greenacre. Any thing there?"
There were two letters. The invalid examined them with
disappointment and tossed them aside.
"Beggars and blackmailers," he muttered. "Nobody else writes to me."
Of a sudden it occurred to him that he was forgetting the duties of
hospitality. He urged his guest to take refreshment; he roused
himself, went to the cupboard, brought out half a dozen kinds of
beverage.
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