"Open, open," she cried in a determined voice, twisting the doorknob.
The door sprang ajar, and she was confronted by a dwarfish person of gaunt and nervous countenance.
"Where is the doctor?" she asked, shrinking from the ugly sight.
"I do not know," replied the small man, trembling from head to foot, and stepping back, as if in fear.
"When will he be here?"
"I do not know. Come back in an hour," he said, walking toward the open door, and looking at her, as much as to plead, “Go, go at once!"
Irène stood still for a moment, then taking a chair before the table on which the chemical formulæ had lain, she said, "I shall wait till he comes."
The anxiety of the dwarf grew intolerable to behold. He did not close the door, and walked nervously from one side of the room to the other, pausing now and then to listen or look out the window or door. His face was smooth, and so thin that the cheek-bones, chin and eye-sockets protruded like the knuckle on a skinny hand. When he spoke, and at
