-"Come along!" and was
off downstairs as fast as he could go. Aunt Constance kept close behind
him.

She was too bewildered to be quite sure, offhand, why Gwen looked so
more than dishevelled, as she met them at the stairfoot, earnest with
excitement. Not panic-struck at all--that was not her way--but at
highest tension of word and look, as she made the decision of her voice
heard:--"Oh, there you are, Mr. Pellew. Make yourself useful. Go out and
bring her in. Never mind who! Make haste. And Maggie's to fetch the
doctor." Mr. Pellew went promptly out, and Miss Dickenson was
beginning:--"Why--what?..." But she had to stand inquiry over. For
nothing was possible against Gwen's:--"Now, Aunt Connie dear, don't ask
questions. You shall be told the whole story, all in good time! Let's
get her upstairs and get the doctor." They both followed Mr. Pellew into
the street, where a perceptible crowd, sprung from nowhere, was already
offering services it was not qualified to give, in ignorance of the
nature of the emergency that had to be met, and in defiance of a
policeman.

Mr. Pellew had taken his instructions so quickly from Miss Grahame,
still in the carriage, that he was already carrying the doctor's
patient, whoever and whatever she was, but carefully as directed, into
the house. At any rate it was not Miss Grahame herself, for that lady's
voice was saying, collectedly:--"I don't think it's any use Maggie
going, Gwen, because she doesn't know London. James must fetch him, in
the carriage. Dr. Dalrymple, 65, Weymouth Street, James! Tell him he
_must_ come, at once! Say _I_ said so." It was then that Aunt Constance
perceived in the clear light of the street, that not only was the
person Mr. Pellew was carrying into the house--whom she could only
identify otherwise as having snow-white hair--covered with dust and
soiled, but that Gwen and Miss Grahame were in a like plight, the latter
in addition being embarrassed by a rent skirt, which she was fain to
hold together as she crossed the doorstep. Once in the house she made
short work of it, finishing the rip, and acquiescing in the publicity of
a petticoat. It added to Aunt Constance's perplexity that the carriage
and James appeared in as trim order as when they left the door three
hours since. These hours had been eventful to her, and she was really
feeling as if the whole thing must be a strange dream.

She got no explanation worth the name at the time of the incident. For
G