Dr. Jedd turned his chair with a sudden movement, and faced him.
"Am I talking to Mr. Sheldon the stockbroker, or Mr. Sheldon the
surgeon-dentist?" he asked.
_This_ was a blow. This allusion to the past was a sharper stroke than
any that Philip Sheldon had before received. He looked at Valentine; from
Valentine to the physician. What did it mean, this mention of the past?
That blabbing fool George had talked to his friend of the days in
Fitzgeorge Street, no doubt; and Valentine had blabbed Mr. Sheldon's
antecedents to the physician.
Was this what it all meant? Or did it mean more than this? Whatever it
might mean, he faced the hidden danger, and met the uncertainties of his
position as calmly as he met its certainties.
"I have no desire to interfere with your treatment," he said, very
quietly; "but I have some knowledge of the Pharmacopoeia, and I confess
myself quite at a loss to understand your prescription."
"Dr. Doddleson will understand it when he has heard my opinion. There is
no time to be lost--Mr. Hawkehurst, will you take this to the chemist,
and wait for the medicine? Miss Halliday cannot take it too soon. I shall
be here to-morrow at nine o'clock.--If you wish me to see Dr. Doddleson,
Mr. Sheldon, you will perhaps arrange an appointment with him for that
hour."
"It is rather an early hour."
"No hour is too early in a case attended with so much danger.
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