Presently Henry came, trying to hide a look of amazement.
"Directly Cook's office in Piccadilly opens I shall want this letter taken there. The messenger must wait for an answer."
He held out a letter.
"Yes, sir."
"All these are for the post."
"Yes, sir."
"You might order Arthur to get ready my bath."
"Yes, sir."
The doctor stood up.
"I shall see patients to-day. To-morrow, or the next day, at latest, I shall leave London. I'm going to Egypt for a few weeks."
There was a pause. Then Henry uttered his formula.
"Yes, sir," he murmured.
He turned and went slowly out.
His sloping shoulders looked as if the Heavens had fallen--on them.