The Keeper of the Door Part 124

Good-bye!"

His kiss was the briefest he had ever given her, but there was something in the manner of its bestowal that pierced her to the heart. Her own farewell was inarticulate. She was only just able to restrain her tears.

But she mastered her weakness almost immediately, for Max was waiting in the pa.s.sage outside. He was talking to a nurse, and she would have slipped past him without recognition; but he broke off abruptly and joined her, walking back with her to the room where Nick was waiting.

"Look here!" he said, "I don't think you need be so anxious, I give you my word I believe the operation will be a success."

It was so contrary to his custom to express an opinion in this way that Olga raised her eyes almost involuntarily to gaze at him.

His eyes met and held them instantly. He looked at her with a species of stern kindness that seemed to thrust away all painful memories.

"Even if it isn't a success," he said, "I won't let him die, I promise you. Now, will you follow my advice for once?"

"Yes," she murmured, wondering at her own docility.

He smiled upon her with instant approval, and her heart gave a wild leap that almost made her gasp. "That's wise of you," he said in that voice of cool encouragement that she remembered so well--so well! "Then get Nick to take you for a walk that'll last for an hour and a half. Go and look at the frogs in the Serpentine! Awfully interesting things--frogs!

And have a gla.s.s of milk before you start! Good-bye!"

Strong and steady, his hand closed upon hers, gave it a slight admonitory shake and set it free.

The next moment he had turned and was striding back along the corridor.

Olga stood and watched him out of sight, but he did not turn his head.

The search for frogs in the Serpentine was scarcely as engrossing a pastime as Nick could have desired for the amus.e.m.e.nt of his charge on that sunny April morning, but he did his valiant best to keep her thoughts on the move. He compelled her to talk when she yearned to be silent, and again in a vague, disjointed fashion Olga wondered at his lack of penetration. Yet, since he was actually obtuse enough to misunderstand her preoccupation and to be even mildly hurt thereby, she exerted herself for his sake to respond intelligently to his remarks.

So, with cheery indifference on his part and aching suspense on hers, they pa.s.sed that dreadful interval of waiting.

On the return journey Olga's knees shook so much that they would scarcely support her; and then it was that Nick seemed suddenly to awake to the situation. He gave her a swift glance, and abruptly offered his arm.

"There, kiddie, there!" he said softly. "Keep a stiff upper lip! It's nearly over."

She accepted his help in silence, and in silence they pursued their way.

Nick looked at her no more, nor spoke. His lips were twitching a little, but he showed no other sign of feeling.

So they came at last to the tall building behind its iron railings that hid so many troubles from the world.

The door opened to them, and they went within.

Silence and a curious, clinging perfume met them as they entered.

Olga stood still. She was white to the lips. "Nick," she said, in a voiceless whisper, "Nick, that is--the pain-killer!"

And then, very quietly from a room close by, Max came to them. He glanced at Nick and nodded. There was an odd, exultant look in the green eyes. He took Olga's hands very firmly into his own.

"It's all right," he said.

She stared at him, trying to make her white lips form a question.

"It's all right," he said again. "Well over. As satisfactory as it could possibly be. Now don't be silly!" Surely it was the Max of old times speaking! "Pull up while you can! Come in here and sit down for a minute! I am going to take you to see him directly."

That last remark did more towards restoring Olga's self-control than any of the preceding ones. She went with him submissively, making strenuous efforts to preserve her composure. She even took without a murmur the winegla.s.s of _sal volatile_ with which he presented her.

Max stood beside her, still holding one of her hands, his fingers grasping her wrist, and talked over her head to Nick.

"Absolutely normal in every way. Came round without the least trouble.

He'll be on his legs again in a fortnight. Of course we shan't turn him loose for a month, and he will have to live in the dark. But he ought to be absolutely sound in six weeks from now."

"And--he will see?" whispered Olga.

Max bent and laid her hand down. He looked at her closely for a moment.

"Yes," he said. "There is no reason why he shouldn't make a complete recovery. Are you all right now? I promised to let him have a word with you."

She stood up. "Yes, I am quite all right. Let us go!"

Her knees still felt weak, but she steadied them resolutely. They went out side by side.

In silence Max piloted her. When they reached the darkened room he took her hand again and led her forward. The cheerful Irish nurse was at the bedside, but she drew away at their approach. And Olga found herself standing above a swathed, motionless figure in hushed expectancy of she knew not what.

The hand that held hers made as if to withdraw itself, but she clung to it suddenly and convulsively, and it closed again.

"All right," said Max's leisurely tones. "He's a bit sleepy still.

Noel!" He bent, still holding her hand. "I've brought Olga, old chap, as I promised. Say good-night to her, won't you?"

The voice was the voice of Max Wyndham, but its tenderness seemed to rend her heart. She could have wept for the pain of it, but she knew she must not weep.

The figure in the bed stirred, murmured an incoherent apology, seemed to awake.

"Oh, is Olga there?" said Noel drowsily. "Take care of her, Max, old boy! Make her as happy as you can! She's awfully--fond--of you--though I'm not--supposed--to know."

The voice trailed off, sank into unconsciousness. Max's hand had tightened to a hard grip. He straightened himself and spoke, coldly, grimly.

"He isn't quite himself yet. I'm afraid I've brought you on a fool's errand. You can kiss him if you like. He probably won't know."

But Olga could not. She turned from the bed with the gesture of one who could bear no more, and without further words he led her from the room.

CHAPTER XXVII

LOVE MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE

"I've been prayin' for you, dear Noel," said Peggy importantly, with her arms round her hero's neck.

"Have you, though?" said Noel. "I say, little pal, how decent of you!

How often?"