The carriage drove up; her father relieved Graham; but in the exchange from one bearer to another she was hurt, and moaned again.
"My darling!" said the father tenderly; then turning to Graham, "You said, sir, you are a medical man?"
"I am: Dr. Bretton, of La Terrasse."
"Good. Will you step into my carriage?"
"My own carriage is here: I will seek it, and accompany you."
"Be pleased, then, to follow us." And he named his address: "The Hotel Crécy, in the Rue Crécy."
We followed; the carriage drove fast; myself and Graham were silent. This seemed like an adventure.
Some little time being lost in seeking our own equipage, we reached the hotel, perhaps, about ten minutes after these strangers. It was an hotel in the foreign sense: a collection of dwelling-houses, not an inn—a vast, lofty pile, with a huge arch to its street-door, leading through a vaulted covered way, into a square all built round.
We alighted, passed up a wide, handsome public staircase, and stopped at Numéro 2 on the second landing; the first floor comprising the abode of I
