The Great Secret Part 11

"There was--an accident, I think," I began.

"A trifle! Nothing at all," the doctor declared hastily. "The trouble is with his heart. You will excuse me! I have many calls to make this evening."

"Perhaps you would kindly give me your address," I said. "Dr. Mumford, the heart specialist, is an acquaintance of mine. You would not object to meet him in consultation?"

He looked at me for a moment fixedly.

"It is not at all necessary!" he declared. "If Mr. Blumentein is not satisfied with my conduct of the case, I will withdraw from it at once!

Otherwise, I shall not tolerate any interference!"

He left me without another word. I returned to the bedside. As I approached, Guest deliberately opened one eye and then closed it again. I addressed him in French:

"How are you?"

"About as I am meant to be," he answered.

The nurse came over to the bedside.

"It is not well for the gentleman to talk to-night," she said. "The doctor has said that he must be quite quiet."

"I shall only stay a few minutes," I answered; "and I will be careful not to disturb him."

She stood quite still for a moment, looking sullenly at us. Then she turned away and left the room. Guest raised himself a little in the bed.

"She has gone to fetch one of my--guardians," he remarked grimly.

"I am going to take you away from here--down to my home in the country,"

I said. "Do you think you can stand the journey?"

"Whether I can or not makes no difference," he answered. "I shall never be allowed to leave this room alive."

The Britisher in me was touched.

"Rubbish," I answered, "if you talk like that, I shall go to Scotland Yard at once. I tell you frankly, I don't like your nurse. I don't like your doctor, I don't like their shutting you up in this lonely part of the hotel, and I can't understand the att.i.tude of Mr. Blumentein at all.

He must know what he is risking in attempting this sort of thing, in London of all places in the world."

He interrupted me impatiently.

"Don't talk about Scotland Yard," he said. "These people are not fools.

They would have a perfect answer to any charge you might bring."

"You don't mean that you intend to lie here and be done to death?" I protested.

"Death for me is a certain thing," he answered. "I have been a doomed man for months. There was never a chance for me after I entered the portals of this hotel. I knew that; but I backed my luck. I thought that I might have had time to finish my work--to lay the match to the gunpowder."

"Listen," I said, "there is a lady--a young lady staying here, a Miss Van Hoyt."

"Well?"

"It was her suggestion that I should take you away with me!"

His eyes seemed to dilate as he stared at me.

"Say that again," he murmured.

I repeated my words. He raised himself a little in the bed.

"What do you know of her?" he asked.

"Not much," I answered. "She came to Lord's cricket ground. My cousin was with her. We have spoken about you."

"You know--"

"I know that she is or appears to be one of your--what shall I say--enemies."

"She is willing," he repeated, "for me to go away with you! Ah!"

A sudden understanding came into his face.

"Yes!" he declared hoa.r.s.ely, "I think that I understand. Go back to her!

Say that I consent. She--she is different to those others. She plays--the great game! Hush! I go to sleep!"

He closed his eyes. The door opened, and the nurse entered, followed by a man who bowed gravely to me. He was still wearing a grey tweed suit and a red tie; his eyes beamed upon me from behind his gold-rimmed spectacles.

"Ah!" he exclaimed softly, "so you have come to see your friend. It is very kind of you! I trust that you find him better."

I pointed to the nurse.

"Send her away," I said. "I want to talk to you!"

"We will talk with pleasure," the newcomer answered, "but why here? We shall disturb our friend. Come into my room, and we will drink a whisky and soda together."

"Thank you, no!" I answered dryly. "I will drink with you at the bar, or in the smoking-room if you like--not in your room."

He bowed.

"An admirable precaution, sir," he declared. "We will go to the smoking-room."

I glanced towards the bed. Guest was sleeping, or feigning sleep. My companion's eyes followed mine sympathetically.

"Poor fellow!" he exclaimed. "I am afraid that he is very ill!"

I opened the door and pushed him gently outside.

"We will go downstairs and have that talk," I said.

We found a quiet corner in the smoking-room, where there was a little recess part.i.tioned off from the rest of the room. My companion drew a small card-case from his pocket.

"Permit me, Mr. Courage," he said, "to introduce myself. My name is Stanley, James Stanley, and I come from Liverpool. Waiter, two best Scotch whiskies, and a large Schweppe's soda."