CHAPTER XV
A MEDICAL OPINION
David Steel followed his guide with the feelings of the man who hasgiven himself over to circumstances. There was a savour of nightmareabout the whole thing that appealed distinctly to his imagination. Thedarkness, the strange situation, the vivid streaks of the crimsonblinds--the crimson blind that seemed an integral part of themystery--all served to stimulate him. The tragic note was deepened bythe whine and howling of the dogs.
"There is a man over there," David whispered.
"A man who is going to stay there," Enid said, with grim satisfaction."It is virtually necessary that Mr. Reginald Henson should not bedisturbed. The dogs have a foolish weakness for his society. So long ashe shows no signs of boredom he is safe."
David smiled with a vague grasp of the situation. Apparently the cue wasto be surprised at nothing that he saw about the House of the SilentSorrow. The name of Reginald Henson was more or less familiar to him asthat of a man who stood high in public estimation. But the bittercontempt in his companion's voice suggested that there was another sideto the man's character.
"I hope you are not asking me to do anything wrong," David murmured.
"I am absolutely certain of it," the girl said. "It is a case of the endjustifying the means; and if ever the end justified the means, it does inthis case. Besides--"
Enid Henson hesitated. David's quick perception prompted him.
"Besides, it is my suggestion," he said. "When I had the pleasure ofseeing you before--"
"Pardon me, you have never had the pleasure of seeing me before."
"Ah, you would make an excellent Parliamentary fencer. I bow to yourcorrection and admit that I have never _seen_ you before. But your voicereminds me of a voice I heard very recently under remarkablecircumstances. It was my good fortune to help a lady in distress a littletime back. If she had told me more I might have aided her still further.As it is, her reticence has landed me into serious trouble."
Enid grasped the speaker's arm convulsively.
"I am deeply sorry to hear it," she whispered. "Perhaps the lady inquestion was reticent for your sake. Perhaps she had confided morethoroughly in good men before. And suppose those good men haddisappeared?"
"In other words, that they had been murdered. Who by?"
There was a snarl from one of the hounds hard by, and a deep, angry cursefrom Henson. Enid pointed solemnly in his direction. No words of herswould have been so thrilling and eloquent. David strode along withoutfurther questions on that head.
"But there is one thing that you must tell me," he said, as they stoodtogether in the porch. "Is the first part of my advice going to becarried out?"
"Yes. That is why you are here now. Stay here one moment whilst I get youpencil and paper... There! Now will you please write what I suggest? Dr.Bell is with my sister. At least, I suppose he is with her, as Dr. Walkerdesired to have his opinion. My sister is dying--dying, you understand?"
Enid's voice had sunk to a passionate whisper. The hand that she laid onDavid's shoulder was trembling strangely. At that moment he would've doneanything for her. A shaft of light filtered from the hall into the porch,and lit up the paper that the girl thrust upon Steel.
"Now write," she commanded. "Ask no questions, but write what I ask, andtrust me implicitly."
David nodded. After all, he reflected, he could not possibly get himselfinto a worse mess than he was in already. And he felt that he could trustthe girl by his side. Her beauty, her earnestness, and her obvioussincerity touched him.
"Write," Enid whispered. "Say, 'See nothing and notice nothing, I imploreyou. Only agree with everything that Dr. Walker says, and leave the roomas quickly as possible!' Now sign your name. We can go into thedrawing-room and wait till Dr. Bell comes down. You are merely a friendof his. I will see that he has this paper at once."
Enid led the way into the drawing-room. She gave no reasons for theweird strangeness of the place, it was no time for explanations. As forSteel, he gazed around him in fascinated astonishment. A novelist everon the look-out for new scenes and backgrounds, the aspect of the roomfascinated him. He saw the dust rising in clouds, he saw the wiltedflowers, he noted the overturned table, obviously untouched andneglected for years, and he wondered. Then he heard the babel ofdiscordant voices overhead. What a sad house it was, and how dominantwas the note of tragedy.
Meanwhile, with no suspicion of the path he was treading, Bell had goneupstairs. He came at length to the door of the room where the sick girllay. There was a subdued light inside and the faint suggestion of illnessthat clings to the chamber of the sufferer. Bell caught a glimpse of awhite figure lying motionless in bed. It was years now since he had actedthus in a professional capacity, but the old quietness and caution cameback by instinct. As he would have entered Margaret Henson came out andclosed the door.
"You are not going in there," she said. "No, no. Everything of mineyou touch you blight and wither. If the girl is to die, let her diein peace."
She would have raised her voice high, but a lightning glance from Bellquieted her. It was not exactly madness that he had to deal with, and heknew it. The woman required firm, quiet treatment. Dr. Walker stoodalongside, anxious and nervous. The man with the quiet practice of thewell-to-do doctor was not used to scenes of this kind.
"You have something to conceal," Bell said, sternly. "Open the door."
"Really, my dear sir," Walker said, fussily. "Really, I fancy that underthe circumstances--"
"You don't understand this kind of case," Bell interrupted. "I do."
Walker dropped aside with a muttered apology. Bell approached the figurein the doorway and whispered a few words rapidly in her ear. The effectwas electrical. The figure seemed to wilt and shrivel up, all the powerand resistance had gone. She stepped aside, moaning and wringing herhands. She babbled of strange things; the old, far-away look came intoher eyes again.
Without a word of comment or sign of triumph Bell entered the sick room.Then he raised his head and sniffed the heavy atmosphere as an eagerhound might have done. A quick, sharp question rose to his lips, only tobe instantly suppressed as he noted the vacant glance of his colleague.
The white figure on the bed lay perfectly motionless. It was the figureof a young and exceedingly beautiful girl, a beauty heightened andaccentuated by the dead-white pallor of her features. Still the facelooked resolute and the exquisitely chiselled lips were firm.
"Albumen," Bell muttered. "What fiend's game is this? I wonder if thatscoundrel--but, no. In that case there would be no object in concealingmy presence here. I wonder--"
He paused and touched the pure white brow with his fingers. At thesame moment Enid came into the room. She panted like one who has runfast and far.
"Well," she whispered, "is she better, better or--Hatherly, read this."
The last words were so low that Bell hardly heard them. He shot a swiftglance at his colleague before he opened the paper. One look and he hadmastered the contents. Then the swift glance was directed from Walker tothe girl standing there looking at Bell with a world of passionateentreaty and longing in her eyes.
"It is _your_ sister who lies there," Bell whispered, meaningly, "andyet you--"
He paused, and Enid nodded. There was evidently a great struggle going onin Bell's mind. He was grappling with something that he only partiallyunderstood, but he did know perfectly well that he was being asked to dosomething absolutely wrong and that he was going to yield for the sake ofthe girl he loved.
He rose abruptly from the bedside and crossed over to Walker.
"You are perfectly correct," he said. "At this rate--at this rate thepatient cannot possibly last till the morning. It is quite hopeless."
Walker smiled feebly.
"It is a melancholy satisfaction to have my opinion confirmed," he said."Miss Henson, if you will get Williams to see me as far as thelodge-gates ... it is so late that--er--"
Williams came at length, and the little doctor departed. Enid fairly
cowered before the blazing, searching look that Bell turned upon her. Shefell to plucking the bedclothes nervously.
"What does it mean?" he asked, hoarsely. "What fiend's plaything are youmeddling with? Don't you know that if that girl dies it will be murder?It was only for your sake that I didn't speak my mind before the fool whohas just gone. He has seen murder done under his eyes for days, and he isready to give a certificate of the cause of death. And the strange thingis that in the ordinary way he would be quite justified in doing so."
"Chris is not going to die; at least, not in that way," Enidwhispered, hoarsely.
"Then leave her alone. No more drugs; no medicine even. Give Nature achance. Thank Heaven, the girl has a perfect constitution."
"Chris is not going to die," Enid repeated, doggedly, "but thecertificate will be given, all the same. Oh, Hatherly, you must trustme--trust me as you have never done before. Look at me, study me. Did youever know me to do a mean or dishonourable thing?"
They were down in the drawing-room again; David waiting, with a strangesense of embarrassment under Margaret Henson's distant eyes; indeed, itwas probable that she had never noticed him at all. All the same sheturned eagerly to Bell.
"Tell me the worst," she cried. "Tell me all there is to know."
"Your niece's sufferings are over," Bell said, gravely; "I have no moreto tell you."
A profound silence followed, broken presently by angry voices outside.Then Williams looked in at the door and beckoned Enid to him. His facewas wreathed in an uneasy grin.
"Mr. Henson has got away," he said. "Blest if I can say how. And theydogs have rolled him about, and tore his clothes, and made such a pictureof him as you never saw. And a sweet temper he's in!"
"Where is he now?" Enid asked. "There are people here he must not see."
"Well, he came back in through the study window, swearing dreadful for sorespectable a gentleman. And he went right up to his room, after orderingwhisky and soda-water."
Enid flew back to the drawing-room. Not a moment was to be lost. At anyhazard Reginald Henson must be kept in ignorance of the presence ofstrangers. A minute later, and the darkness of the night had swallowedthem up. Williams fastened the lodge-gates behind them, and they turnedtheir faces in the direction of Rottingdean Road.
"A strange night's work," David said, presently.
"Aye, but pregnant with result," Bell answered. There was a stern,exulting ring in his voice. "There is much to do and much danger to befaced, but we are on the right track at last. But why did you send methat note just now?"
David smiled as he lighted a cigarette.
"It is part of the scheme," he said. "Part of my scheme, you understand.But, principally, I sent you the note because Miss Enid asked me to."
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