A great many other persons had seen the advertisement. There were many among them who wondered if Mr. John Richling could be such a fool as to fall into that trap. There were others--some of them women, alas!--who wondered how it was that nobody advertised for information concerning them, and who wished, yes, "wished to God," that such a one, or such a one, who had had his money-bags locked up long enough, would die, and then you'd see who'd be advertised for. Some idlers looked in vain into the city directory to see if Mr. John Richling were mentioned there. But Richling himself did not see the paper. His employers, or some fellow-clerk, might have pointed it out to him, but--we shall see in a moment. Time passed. It always does. At length, one morning, as Dr. Sevier lay on his office lounge, fatigued after his attentions to callers, and much enervated by the prolonged summer heat, there entered a small female form, closely veiled. He rose to a sitting posture. "Good-morning, Doctor," said a voice, hurriedly, behind the veil. "Doctor," it continued, choking,--"Doctor"-- "Why, Mrs. Richling!" He sprang and gave her a chair. She sank into it. "Doctor,--O Doctor! John is in the Charity Hospital!" She buried her face in her handkerchief and sobbed aloud. The Doctor was silent a moment, and then asked:-- "What's the matter with him?" "Chills." It seemed as though she must break down again, but the Doctor stopped her savagely. "Well, my dear madam, don't cry! Come, now, you're making too much of a small matter. Why, what are chills? We'll break them in forty-eight hours. He'll have the best of care. You needn't cry! Certainly this isn't as bad as when you were there." She was still, but shook her head. She couldn't agree to that. "Doctor, will you attend him?" "Mine is a female ward." "I know; but"-- "Oh--if you wish it--certainly; of course I will. But now, where have you moved, Mrs. Richling? I sent"-- He looked up over his desk toward that of Narcisse. The Creole had been neither deaf nor idle. Hospital? Then those children in Prieur street had told him right. He softly changed his coat and shoes. As the physician looked over the top of the desk Narcisse's silent form, just here at the left, but out of the range of vision, passed through the door and went downstairs with the noiselessness of a moonbeam. Mary explained the location and arrangement of her residence. "Yes," she said, "that's the way your clerk must have overlooked us. We live behind--down the alleyway." "Well, at any rate, madam," said the Doctor, "you are here now, and before you go I want to"-- He drew out his pocket-book. There was a quick gesture of remonstrance and a look of pleading. "No, no, Doctor, please don't! please don't! Give my poor husband one more chance; don't make me take that. I don't refuse it for pride's sake!" "I don't know about that," he replied; "why do you do it?"