"A doctor must be fetched at once," someone was saying, just
as Horace came up and recognized, not without difficulty, in
the pale disfigured form before him, the handsome fair-haired
M. Linders he had met at Chaudfontaine five years before.
"I am a doctor," he said, coming forward. "Perhaps I can be of
some use here."
No one seemed to notice him at first--a lad had already started
in quest of a surgeon, and jumping into the empty _fiacre_ that
had brought the injured man to the hotel, was driving off; but
Madelon turned round at the sound of Graham's voice, and
looked up in his face with a new expression of hope in her
eyes, instead of the blank, bewildered despair with which she
had been gazing at her father and the strange faces around. To
the poor child it seemed as if she had lived through an
unknown space of terror and misery during the few minutes that
had elapsed since from the passage window she had seen the
_fiacre_ stop, and, with the presentiment of evil which had been
haunting her during these last hours of suspense, intensified
to conviction, had flown downstairs only to meet her father's
insensible form as he was carried in.
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