"
"That's a good idea," I agreed, and gave the driver the address.
Jenkinson was in his office, and received us at once.
"Doctor Jenkinson," began our junior, without preamble, "I am John
Royce, of Graham & Royce. You know, I suppose, that we are the legal
advisers of Miss Frances Holladay."
"Yes," answered Jenkinson. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Royce."
"In consequence, we're naturally interested in her welfare and all
that concerns her, and I called to ask you for some definite details
of her condition."
"Her condition? I don't quite understand."
"We should like to know, doctor, just how ill she is."
"Ill!" repeated Jenkinson, in evident surprise. "But is she ill?"
"She's your patient, isn't she? I thought you were the family doctor."
"So I am," assented the other. "But I haven't seen Miss Holladay for
ten days or two weeks. At that time, she seemed quite well--a little
nervous, perhaps, and worried, but certainly not requiring medical
attention. She has always been unusually robust."
Mr. Royce stopped, perplexed; as for me, my head was in a whirl again.
"I'll tell you the story," he said at last. "I should like the benefit
of your advice;" and he recounted rapidly the facts of Miss Holladay's
illness, in so far as he knew them, ending with an account of our
recent visit, and the statement of the maid that her mistress was
under a doctor's care.
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