Mr. Hamilton was conquered. "Put your work away, and let us have a chat before going out to lunch," he said. "And yes, my boy," he added genially, "suppose we consider that your table, and let us for the future share this room together. What do you say?"
"Done," Teddie resumed briefly. But his companion was content with the reply. The boy had flushed up and was looking immensely gratified.
At this juncture there came a knock on the door, and a clerk entered to say, that Mr. Desborough’s servant desired to speak with Mr. Le Mesurier. In some wonder Teddie followed him into the outer office, and, taking the man apart, asked his business.
"My master is very ill, sir," Thomas returned, "and is asking to speak with you, sir."
"What is the matter with him?" Teddie asked, blankly.
"The doctors don’t exactly say, sir, but the heart’s action is giving out, as I understand it. Can you come at once, sir? It is a matter of a few hours, at best."
Teddie nodded and re-entered the inner office, to acquaint Mr. Hamilton with the sad intelligence.
"You had better take a cab and be off instantly," was his kindly advice.
And Teddy, accompanied by the man, followed his counsel, only stopping at a telegraph office on the way, to ask Helen to come to Lancaster Gate.
A doctor turned from the bedside as Teddie entered his uncle’s room. He motioned the young man aside, and laid great stress upon not exciting the patient, and expressed the opinion that relatives should be informed of the approaching end.
Teddie was relieved to see his uncle look much as usual. In his utter inexperience he had supposed the fatal illness must inevitably have worked terrible havoc in his appearance. Beyond accentuation of the lines, with which age and suffering had furrowed his face, the boy could perceive but little change.
At once reassured, he grasped the feeble hand that was held out to him, and began to pour forth boyish words of cheer and comfort, bringing a smile to his uncle’s lips.
"This is only a bad attack. You’ll be over it in no time," he assured him. "Doctors are mostly old women and love croaking. Shall I shake up your pillow?" he asked, at a loss what to say or do next, "and—and give you a dose of medicine?"