“You have talked of a physician, Mr. Mew; would it not be well to call one in immediately?”

“I should feel more comfortable if my opinion were supported, sir:  not that I believe there is anything more can be done for our patient than I have been doing; but the case is a critical one, and I should be glad to feel myself supported.”

“If you will give me the name and address of the gentleman you would like to call in, I will go for him immediately.”

“To-night?  Nay, my dear sir, there is no occasion for such haste; to-morrow morning will do very well.”

“To-morrow morning, then; but I will make the appointment to-night, if I can.”

Mr. Mew named a physician high in reputation as a specialist in such cases as John Saltram’s; and Gilbert dashed off at once in a hansom to obtain the promise of an early visit from this gentleman on the following morning.  He succeeded in his errand; and on returning to the Temple found the professional nurse installed, and the sick-room brightened and freshened a little by her handiwork.  The patient was asleep, and his slumber was more quiet than usual.

Gilbert had eaten nothing since breakfast, and it was now nearly nine o’clock in the evening; but before going out to some neighbouring tavern to snatch a hasty dinner, he stopped to tell Mrs. Pratt that he should sleep in his friend’s chamber that night.

“Why, you don’t mean that, sir, sure to goodness,” cried the laundress, alarmed; “and not so much as a sofy bedstead, nor nothing anyways comfortable.”

“I could sleep upon three or four chairs, if it were necessary; but there is an old sofa in the bedroom.  You might bring that into this room for me; and the nurse can have it in the day-time.  She won’t want to be lying down to-night, I daresay.  I don’t suppose I shall sleep much myself, but I am a little knocked up, and shall be glad of some sort of rest.  I want to be on the spot, come what may.”

“But, sir, with the new nurse and me, there surely can’t be no necessity; and you might be round the first thing in the morning like to see how the poor dear gentleman has slep’.”

“I know that, but I would rather be on the spot.  I have my own especial reasons.  You can go home to your children.”

“Thank you kindly, sir; which I shall be very glad to take care of ’em, poor things.  And I hope, sir, as you won’t forget that I’ve gone through a deal for Mr. Saltram—­if so be as he shouldn’t get better himself, which the Lord forbid—­to take my trouble into consideration, bein’ as he were always a free-handed gentleman, though not rich.”

“Your services will not be forgotten, Mrs. Pratt, depend upon it.  Perhaps I’d better give you a couple of sovereigns on account:  that’ll make matters straight for the present.”

“Yes, sir; and many thanks for your generosity,” replied the laundress, agreeably surprised by this prompt donation, and dropping grateful curtseys before her benefactor; “and Mr. Saltram shall want nothing as my care can provide for him, you may depend upon it.”