He merely said, "No; I was not ill. I only
wanted a little change to refresh me,"--and walked back to the window to
lave himself in the air.
"Well," continued Lefevre, "since I called to see you, I have had an
adventure or two. You never look at a newspaper except for the weather,
and so it is probable you do not know that I had brought to me yesterday
afternoon another strange case like that of the young officer a month
ago,--a similar case, but worse."
"Worse?" exclaimed Julius, dropping into the chair by the window, and
glancing, as a less preoccupied observer than the doctor would have
remarked, with a wistful desire at the door.
"Much worse--though, I believe, from the same hand," said Lefevre. "A
lady this time,--titularly and really a lady,--Lady Mary Fane, the
daughter of Lord Rivercourt."
"Oh, good heavens!" exclaimed Julius, and there were manifest so keen a
note of apprehension in his voice and so deep a shade of apprehension on
his face, that Lefevre could not but note them and confirm himself in
his suspicion of the intimate bond of connection between him and the
author of the outrage.
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