Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 270: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SAVED. 261 Mr. Booker, imperiously. Then he resumed his writing, completely ignoring poor Nora’s presence. She followed the boy with wistful eyes, longing to rush after him and end this torturing suspense, but she would as soon have thought of flying. Scratch, scratch went Mr. Booker’s pen, as the moments passed on leaden wings. Nora felt as though she must scream with the pain that was wringing her heart. Would that boy never return? At this juncture down the stairs came a dapper little man, buttoned snugly into a heavy coat and wearing a shiny, high hat and new gloves. A lightning change passed under the clerk’s silky mus- tache. His teeth showed in a condescending smile as he rose and leaned as far over his desk as possible. ‘‘Ah, doctor, I just sent up to you. This person is——”’ ‘‘Miss Delmar’s servant, I presume?’’ finished the doc- tor, quickly, turning to Nora. ‘‘You were not alarmed at my summons, I trust?”’ No longer able to control herself, the girl, at the sound of the mild voice, broke down completely. ‘‘Oh, doctor,’’ she wailed, ‘‘the messenger said—said— some one was dead. He did not know who, but my heart’s broke with worry for fear it ismy dear mistress who’s suc- cumbed to the fearful night. She’s that delicate and hasn’t 99 been herself these long months—— Doctor Parkin laid one hand kindly on her shoulder. ‘‘Calm yourself, my good woman,”’ he said, soothingly. ‘‘One person did succumb to the cold and exposure, but it was Father Moore; he had been dead several hours when the stage arrived,’’ Gomicbooks.co im