Dr. Rumsey's Patient Part 21

"Go on, Hetty," he said. "Do you know this interests me vastly. I have been troubled lately with visions of that queer murder. Only last night I had one. Now why should such visions come to one who knows nothing whatever about it?"

"Well, sir, they do say----"

"What?"

"It is the old proverb," muttered Hetty. "'Murder will out.'"

"I know the proverb, but I don't understand your application," replied Awdrey, but he looked thoughtful. "If you were troubled with these bad visions or dreams I should not be surprised," he continued, "for you really witnessed the thing. By the way, as you are here, perhaps you can help me. I lost my stick at the time of the murder, and never found it since. I would give a good deal to find it. What is that you say?"

"You'll never find it, sir. Thank the good G.o.d above, you'll never find it."

"I am glad that you recognize the loss not to be a trifle. Most people laugh when I speak of anything so trivial as a stick. You say I shall never find it again--perhaps so. The forgetting it so completely troubles me, however. Hetty, I had a bad dream last night--no, it was not really a dream, it was a vision. I saw that murder--I witnessed the whole thing. I saw the dead man, and I saw the back of the man who committed the murder. I tried hard, but I could not get a glimpse of his face. I wanted to see his face badly. What is the matter, girl? How white you look."

"Don't say another word, sir. I have borne much for you and for your people, but there are limits, and if you say another word, I shall lose my self-control."

"I am sorry my talk has such an effect upon you, Hetty. You don't look too happy, my little girl. Your face is old--I hope your husband is good to you."

"He is as good as I deserve, Mr. Awdrey. I never had any love to give him--he knew that from the first. He married me five years ago because I was pretty, and Aunt f.a.n.n.y thought I'd best be married--she thought it would make things safer--but it is a mistake to marry when your heart is given to another."

"Ah yes, poor Frere--you were in love with him, were you not?"

"No, sir, that I was not."

"I forgot--it was with Everett--poor girl, no wonder you look old."

Awdrey gave Hetty a weary glance--his attention was already beginning to flag.

"It was not with Mr. Everett," whispered Hetty in a low tone which thrilled with pa.s.sion.

Awdrey took no notice. His apathy calmed her, and saved her from making a terrible avowal.

"I'll just tell you what I came to say and then leave you, sir," she said in a broken voice. "It is all about Mrs. Everett. She stood with me close to the alders, and I described the scene of the murder and how it took place, and all of a sudden she looked me in the eyes and said something. She said that Mr. Horace Frere was the man who was murdered--but the man who committed the murder was not her son, Mr.

Everett. She spoke in an awful sort of voice, and said she knew the truth--she knew that her son was innocent. Oh, sir, I got so awfully frightened--I nearly let the truth out."

"You nearly let the truth out--the truth? What do you mean?"

"Mr. Robert, is it possible that you do not know?"

"I only know what all the rest of the world knows--that Everett is guilty."

"I see, sir, that you still hold to that, and I am glad of it, but Mrs.

Everett is the sort of woman to frighten a body. Her eyes seem to pierce right down to your very heart--they seem to read your secret. Mr.

Awdrey, will you do what I ask you? Will you leave England for a bit? It would be dreadful for me to have done all that I have done and to find it useless in the end."

Whatever reply Awdrey might have made to this appeal was never uttered.

His attention was at this moment effectually turned into another channel. He saw Mrs. Everett, his wife, and boy coming to meet him. The boy, a splendid little fellow with rosy cheeks and vigorous limbs, ran down the path with a glad cry to fling himself into his father's arms.

He was a princely looking boy, a worthy scion of the old race. Awdrey, absorbed with his son, took no notice of Hetty. Unperceived by him she slipped down a side path and was lost to view.

"Dad," cried the child, in a voice of rapture.

Margaret and Mrs. Everett came up to the pair.

"I hope you are better, Robert," said his wife.

"I suppose I am," he answered. "I had a fairly good night. How well Arthur looks this morning."

"Poor little boy, he was fretting to come to meet you," said Mrs.

Awdrey.

Awdrey turned to speak to Mrs. Everett. There was a good deal of color in her cheeks, and her dark eyes looked brighter and more piercing than ever.

"Forgive me," she said, "for interrupting this conversation. I want to ask you a question. Mr. Awdrey, I saw you walking just now with a woman.

Who was she?"

Awdrey laughed.

"Why, she has gone," he said, glancing round. "Who do you think my companion was?" he continued, glancing at Margaret. "None other than an old acquaintance--pretty little Hetty Armitage. She has some other name now, but I forget what it is. She said she came up to town on purpose to see me, but I could not induce her to come to the house. What is the matter, Mrs. Everett?"

"I should like to see Hetty Armitage. Did she give you her address?"

"No, I did not ask her. I wonder why she hurried off so quickly; but she seemed in a queer, excitable state. I don't believe she is well."

"I want to see her again," continued Mrs. Everett. "I may as well say frankly that I am fully convinced there is something queer about that woman--a very little more and I should put a detective on her track. I suspect her. If ever a woman carried a guilty secret she does."

"Oh, come," said Margaret, "you must not allow your prejudices to run away with you. Please remember that Hetty grew up at Grandcourt. My husband and I have known her almost from her birth."

"A giddy little thing, but wonderfully pretty," said Awdrey.

"Well, never mind about her now," interrupted Margaret, a slight touch of impatience in her manner. "Please, Robert, tell me exactly what Dr.

Rumsey ordered for you."

"Nothing very alarming," he replied; "the doctor thinks my nerves want tone. No doubt they do, although I feel wonderfully better this morning.

He said something about my leaving England for a time and taking a sea voyage. I believe he intends to call round this evening to talk over the scheme. Now, little man, are you ready for your walk?"

"Yes," said the child. He stamped his st.u.r.dy feet with impatience.

Awdrey took his hand and the two went off in the direction of the Serpentine. Mrs. Everett and Margaret followed slowly in the background.

Awdrey remained out for some time with the boy. The day, which had begun by being mild and spring-like, suddenly changed its character. The wind blew strongly from the north--soon it rose to a gale. Piles of black clouds came up over the horizon and covered the sky, then heavy sleet showers poured down with biting intensity. Awdrey and the child were quite in the open when they were caught by one of these, and before they could reach any shelter they were wet through. They hurried into the first hansom they met, but not before the mischief was done. Awdrey took a chill, and before the evening was over he was shivering violently, huddled up close to the fire. The boy, whose lungs were his weak point, seemed, however, to have escaped without any serious result--he went to bed in his usual high spirits, but his mother thought his pretty baby voice sounded a little hoa.r.s.e. Early the next morning the nurse called her up; the child had been disturbed in the night by the hoa.r.s.eness and a croupy sensation in his throat; his eyes were now very bright and he was feverish. The nurse said she did not like the look of the little fellow; he seemed to find it difficult to breathe, and he was altogether very unlike himself.

"I'll send a messenger immediately for Dr. Rumsey," said Margaret.

She returned to her bedroom and awoke her husband, who was in a heavy sleep. At Margaret's first words he started up keen and interested.

"What are you saying, Maggie? The boy--little Arthur--ill?"

"Yes, he seems very ill; I do not like his look at all," she replied.

"It is I know, very early, but I think I'll send a messenger round at once to ask Dr. Rumsey to call."

"We ought not to lose a minute," said Awdrey. "I'll go for him myself."