The doctor, a grave, incurious person, arrived within a few minutes to find Morrison already conscious but absolutely exhausted. He felt his patient's pulse, prescribed a draught, and followed Laverick down into the sitting room.
"An ordinary case of nervous exhaustion," he pronounced. "The patient appears to have had a very severe shock lately. He will be all right with proper diet and treatment, and a complete rest. I will call again to-morrow."
He accepted the fee which Laverick slipped into his hand, and took his departure. Once more Laverick was alone with the girl, who had followed them downstairs.
"There is nothing to be alarmed at, you see," he remarked.
"It is not his health which frightens me. I am sure--I am quite sure that he has something upon his mind. Did he tell you nothing?"
"Nothing at all," Laverick answered, with an inward sense of thankfulness. "To tell you the truth, though, I am afraid you are right and that he did get into some sort of trouble last night. He was just about to tell me something when he fainted."
Upstairs they could hear him moaning. The girl listened with pitiful face.
"What am I to do?" she asked. "I cannot leave him like this, and if I am not at the theatre in twenty minutes, I shall be fined."
"The theatre?" Laverick repeated.
She nodded.
"I am on the stage," she said,--"only a chorus girl at the Universal, worse luck. Still, they don't allow us to stay away, and I can't afford to lose my place."
"Do you mean to say that you have been keeping yourself here, then?" Laverick asked bluntly.
"Of course," she answered. "I do not like to be a burden on any one, and after all, you see, Arthur and I are really not related at all. He has always told me, too, that times have been so bad lately."
Laverick was on the point of telling her that bad though they had been Arthur Morrison had never drawn less than fifteen hundred a year, but he checked himself. It was not his business to interfere.
"I think," he said, "that your brother ought to have provided for you. He could have done so with very little effort."
"But what am I to do now?" she asked him. "If I am absent, I shall lose my place."
Laverick thought for a moment.
"If you went round there and told them," he suggested, "would that make any difference? I could stay until you came back."
"Do you mind?" she asked eagerly. "It would be so kind of you."
"Not at all," he answered. "Perhaps you would be good enough to bring a taxicab back, and I could take it on to my rooms. Take one from here, if you can find it. There are always some at the corner."