determination. Parkinson retired, knowing that the thing was settled. “I
am quite alone, Mr Severe, and my selfishness takes that form. If a man
calls on me about breakfast-time he must stay to breakfast, at
lunch-time to lunch, and so on.”
“Your friends, doubtless,” suggested Severe with latent bitterness.
“Well, I am inclined to describe anyone who will lighten my darkness for
an hour as a friend. You would yourself in the circumstances, you know.”
And then, quite unconsciously, under this treatment the years of
degradation suddenly slipped from Severe and he found himself accepting
the invitation in the conventional phrases and talking to his host just
as though they were two men of the same world in the old times. Guessing
what had brought him, and knowing that it mattered little or nothing
then, Carrados kept his guest clear of the subject of the disappearance
until they were alone again after dinner. Then, to be denied no longer,
Severe tackled it with a blunt inquiry:
“Scotland Yard has been consulting you about Marie, Mr Carrados?”
“Surely that is not in the papers?”
“I don’t know,” replied Severe, “but they aren’t my authority. Among the
people I have mostly to do with many shrewd bits of information
circulate that never get into the Press. Sometimes they are mere
bead-work, of course, but quite often they have ground. Just at present
I am something of a celebrity in my usual haunts--I am ‘Jones’ in town,
by the way, but my identity has come out--and everything to do with the
notorious Severe affair comes round to me. I hear that Inspector Beedel,
who has the case in hand, has just been to see you. Your co-operation is
inferred.”
“And if so?” queried Carrados.
“If so,” continued his visitor, “I have a word to say. Beedel got it
into his thick, unimaginative skull that I must be the kidnapper
because, on the orthodox ‘motive’ lines, he couldn’t fix on anyone else.
As a matter of fact, Mr Carrados, I have rather too much affection for
my little daughter to have taken her out of a comfortable home. My
unfortunate wife may have her faults--I don’t mind admitting that she
has--serious faults and a great many of them, but she would at least
give Marie decent surroundings. When I heard of the child’s
disappearance--it was in the early evening papers the next morning--I
was distracted. I dreaded every edition to see a placard announcing that
the body had been found and to read the usual horrible details of insane
or bestial outrage. I searched my pockets and found a shilling and a few
coppers. Without any clear idea of what I expected to do, I tore off to
the station and spent my money on a third single to Swanstead.”
“Oh,” interposed Carrados, “the 1.17 arrival?”
Severe laughed contemptuously.
“The station porter, you mean?” he said. “Yes; that bright youth merely
predated his experience by twenty-four hours when he saw that there was
bunce in it a few days later. Oh, I dare say he really thought it then.
As for me, before I had got to Swanstead I had realised my mistake. What
could I do in any case? Nothing that the least efficient local bobby
could not do much better. Least of all did I wish to meet Ida--Mrs
Severe. No; I walked out of the station, turned to the right instead of
the left and padded back to town.”
“And you have come now, a fortnight or more after, to tell me this, Mr
Severe?”
“Well, I have come to have small hopes of Beedel. At first I didn’t care
two straws what they thought, expecting every hour to hear the worst.
But that may not have happened. Two weeks have passed without anything
being found, so that the child may be alive somewhere. If you are taking
it up there is a chance--provided only that you don’t let them obsess
you with the idea that I have had anything to do with it.”
“I don’t imagine that you have had anything to do with it, Mr Severe,
and I believe that Marie is still alive.”
“Thank God for that,” said Severe with sudden intensity. “I am very,
very glad to hear you express that opinion, Mr Carrados. I don’t suppose
that I shall see much of the girl as time goes on or that she will be
taught to regard the Fifth Commandment very seriously. All the same, the
relief of hearing that makes me your debtor for ever.... Anxious as I
am, I will be content with that. I won’t worry you for your clues or
your ideas ... but I will tell you one thing. It may amuse you. _My_
notion, a few days ago, of what might have happened----”
“Yes?” encouraged his host.
“It shows you the wild ideas one gets in such circumstances. My former
wife is, if I may be permitted to say so, the most amiable and devoted
creature in the world. Subject to that, I will readily concede that a
more self-opinionated, credulous, dogmatically wrong-headed and
crank-ridden woman does not exist. There isn’t a silly fad that she
hasn’t taken up--and what’s more tragic, absolutely believed in for the
time--from ozonised milk to rhythmic yawning. Some time ago she was
swept into Christian Science. An atrocious harpy called Julp--a
professional ‘healer’--fastened on her and has dominated her ever since.
Well, fantastic as it seems now, I was actually prepared to believe that
Marie had been ill and under their really sincere but grotesque
‘healing’ had died. Then to hide the failure of their creed or because
they got panic-stricken----”
Then Carrados interrupted, an incivility he rarely committed.
“Yes, yes, I see,” he said quickly. “But your daughter never is ill?”
“Never ill? Marie? Oh, isn’t she! In the past six months I’ve----”
“But Mrs Severe deliberately said--her words--that Marie ‘does not know
what illness means.’”
“That’s their jargon. They hold that illness does not exist and so it
has no meaning. But I should describe Marie as a delicate child on the
whole--bilious attacks and so on.”
“Christian Scientists ... gastric trouble ... Prescott Ellerslie? Good
heavens! This comes of half doing a thing,” muttered Carrados.
“Nothing wrong, I hope?” ventured the visitor.
“Wait.” Severe wondered what the deuce turn the business was taking, but
there being no incentive to do anything else, he waited. Coffee, rather
more fragrant than that purveyed at the nocturnal stall, and fat
Egyptian cigarettes of a subtle aroma somehow failed nevertheless to
make the time pass quickly. Yet five minutes would have covered
Carrados’s absence.
“Nothing wrong, but an unfortunate oversight,” he remarked when he
returned. “I was too late to catch Beedel, so we must try to mend
matters at the other end if we can. I shall have to ask you to go with
me. I have ordered the car and I can tell you how we stand on the way.”
“I shall be glad if you can make any use of me,” said Severe.
“I hope that I may. And as for anything being wrong,” added Carrados
with deliberation, “so far as Marie is concerned I think we may find
that the one thing necessary for her future welfare has been achieved.”
“That’s all I ask,” said Severe.
“But it isn’t all that I ask,” retorted the blind man almost sharply.
This time there was nothing clandestine about the visit to Arling
Avenue. On the contrary, the pace they kept up made it necessary that
the horn should give pretty continuous notice of their presence. If it
was a race, however, they had the satisfaction of being successful: the
manner--more suggestive of the trained nurse than the domestic
servant--of the maid who came to the door of Arling Lodge made it clear
to Carrados, apart from any other indication, that the catastrophe of
Beedel’s arrival had not yet been launched. When the young person at the
door began conscientiously, but with obvious inexperience, to
prevaricate with the truth, the caller merely accepted her statements
and wrote a few words on his card.
“When Dr Ellerslie does return, will you please give him this at once?”
he said. “I will wait.”
It is to be inferred that the great specialist’s return had been
providentially timed, for Carrados was scarcely seated when Prescott
Ellerslie hurried into the room with the visiting-card in his hand.
“Mr Carrados?” he postulated. “Will you please explain this rather
unusually worded request for an interview?”
“Certainly I will,” replied Carrados. “The wording is prompted by the
necessity of compelling your immediate attention. The interview is the
outcome of my desire to be of use to you.”
“Thank you,” said Ellerslie with non-committal courtesy. “And the
occasion?”
“The occasion is the impending visit of Inspector Beedel from Scotland
Yard, not, this time, to look out of your landing window, but to demand
the surrender of the missing Marie Severe and, if you deny any knowledge
of her, armed with authority to search your house.”
“Oh,” replied the doctor with astonishing composure. “And if the
situation develops on the lines which you have so pointedly indicated,
how do you propose to help me?”
“That depends a little on your explanation of the circumstances.”
“Surely between Mr Carrados and Scotland Yard there is nothing that
remains to be explained!”
“Mr Carrados can only speak for himself,” replied the blind man with
unmoved good humour. “And in his case there are several things to be
explained. There is probably not a great deal of time before the
Inspector’s arrival, but there may be enough if you are disposed----”
“Very well,” acquiesced Ellerslie. “You are quite right in assuming
Marie Severe to be in this house. I had her brought here ... out of
revenge, to redress an old and very grievous injury. Perhaps you had
guessed that?”
“Not in those terms,” said Carrados mildly.
“Yet so it was. Ten years ago a very sweet and precious little child, my
only daughter, was wantonly done to death by an ignorant and credulous
woman who had charge of her, in the tenets of her faith. It is called
Christian Science. The opportunity was put before me and to-day I stand
convicted of having outraged every social and legal form by snatching
Marie Severe from just that same fate.”
Carrados nodded gravely.
“Yes,” he assented. “That is the thing I missed.”
“I used to see her on her way to school, whenever I was here,” went on
the doctor wistfully, “and soon I came to watch for her and to know the
times at which she ought to pass. She was of all living creatures the
gayest and the most vivid, glowing and vibrant with the compelling joy
of life, a little being of wonderful grace, delicacy and charm. She had,
I found when I came to know her somewhat, that distinction of manner
which one is prone to associate unreasonably only with the children of
the great and wealthy--a young nobility. In much she reminded me
constantly of my own lost child; in other ways she attracted me by her
diversity. Such, Mr Carrados, was the nature of my interest in Marie
Severe.
“I don’t know the Severes and I have never even spoken to the mother. I
believe that she has only lived here about a year, and in any case I
have no concern in the social life of Swanstead. But a few months ago my
worthy old housekeeper struck up an acquaintance with one of Mrs
Severe’s servants, a staid, middle-aged person who had gone into the
family as Marie’s nurse. The friendship begun down our respective
gardens--they adjoin--developed to the stage of these two dames taking
tea occasionally with one another. My Mrs Glass is a garrulous old
woman. Hitherto my difficulty had often been to keep her quiet. Now I
let her talk and deftly steered the conversation. I learned that my
neighbours were Christian Scientists and had a so-called ‘healer’ living
with them. The information struck me with a sudden dread.
“‘I suppose they are never ill, then?’ I inquired carelessly.
“Mrs Severe had not been ill since she had embraced Christian Science,
and Miss Julp was described in a phrase obviously of her own importing
as being ‘all selvage.’ The servants were allowed to see a doctor if
they wished, although they were strongly pressed to have done with such
‘trickery’ in dispelling a mere ‘illusion.’
“‘And isn’t there a child?’ I asked.
“Marie, it appeared, had from time to time suffered from the ‘illusion’
that she had not felt well--had suffered pain. Under Miss Julp’s
spiritual treatment the ‘hallucination’ had been dispelled. Mrs Glass
had laughed, looked very knowing and then given her friend away in her
appreciation of the joke. The faithful nurse had accepted the situation
and as soon as her mistress’s back was turned had doctored Marie
according to her own simple notions. Under this double influence the
child had always picked up again, but the two women had ominously
speculated what would happen if she fell ‘really ill.’ I led her on to
details of the sicknesses--their symptoms, frequency and so on. It was a
congenial topic between the motherly old creature and the nurse and I
could not have had a better medium. I learned a good deal from her
chatter. It did not reassure me.
“From that time, without allowing my interest to appear, I sought better
opportunities to see the child. I inspired Mrs Glass to suggest to the
nurse that Miss Marie might come and explore the garden here--it is a
large and tangled place, such as an adventuring child would love to roam
in, and this one, as I found, was passionately fond of flowers and
growing things and birds and little animals. I got a pair of tame
squirrels and turned them loose here. You can guess her enchantment when
she discovered them. I went out with nuts for her to give them and we
were friends at once. All the time I was examining her without her
knowledge. I don’t suppose it ever occurred to her that I might be a
doctor. The result practically confirmed the growing suspicion that
everything I had heard pointed to. And the tragic irony of the situation
was that it had been appendicitis that my child--_my_ child--had
perished from!”
“Oh, so this was appendicitis, then?”
“Yes. It was appendicitis of that insidious and misleading type to which
children are particularly liable. These apparently negligible turns at
intervals of weeks were really inflammation of the appendix and the
condition was inevitably passing into one of general suppurative
peritonitis. Very soon there would come another ‘illusion’ according to
the mother and Miss Julp, another ‘bilious turn’ according to the nurse,
similar to those already experienced, but apparently more obstinate. The
Christian Scientists would argue with it, Hannah would surreptitiously
dose it. This time, however, it would hang on. Still there would be no
really very alarming symptoms to wring the natural affection of the
mother, nothing severe enough to drive the nurse into mutiny. The pulse
running at about 140 would be the last thing they would notice.”
“And then?” Ellerslie was pacing the room in savage indignation, but
Carrados had Beedel’s impending visit continually before him.
“Then she would be dead. Quite suddenly and unceremoniously this fair
young life, which in ten minutes I could render immune from this danger
for all the future, would go clean out--extinguished to demonstrate that
appendicitis does not exist and that Mind is All in All. If my diagnosis
was correct there could be no appeal, no shockful realisation of the
true position to give the mother a chance. It would be inevitable, but
it would be quite unlooked for.
“What was I to do, should you say, Mr Carrados, in this emergency? I had
dealt with these fanatics before and I knew that if I took so unusual a
course as to go to Mrs Severe I should at the best be met by polite
incredulity and a text from Mrs Mary Baker Eddy’s immortal work. And by
doing that I should have made any other line of action risky, if not
impossible. You, I believe, are a humane man. What was I to do?”
“What you did do,” said his visitor, “was about the most dangerous thing
that a doctor could be mixed up in.”
“Oh no,” replied Ellerslie, “he does a much more dangerous thing
whenever he operates on a septiferous subject, whenever he enters a
fever-stricken house. To career and reputation, you would say; but,
believe me, Mr Carrados, life is quite as important as livelihood, and
every doctor does that sort of thing every day. Well, like many very
ordinary men whom you may meet, I am something of a maniac and something
of a mystic. Incredible as it will doubtless seem to the world
to-morrow, I found that, at the risk of my professional career, at the
risk, possibly, of a criminal conviction, the greatest thing that I
should ever do would be to save this one exquisite young life. Elsewhere
other men just as good could take my place, but here it was I and I
alone.”
“Well, you did it?” prompted Carrados. “I must remind you that the time
presses and I want to know the facts.”
“Yes, I did it. I won’t delay with the precautions I had taken in
securing the child or with the scheme that I had worked out for
returning her. I believed that I had a very good chance of coming
through undiscovered and I infer that I have to thank you that I did
not. Marie has not the slightest idea where she is and when I go into
the room I am sufficiently disguised. She thinks that she has had an
accident.”
“Of course you must have had assistance?”
“I have had the devoted help of an assistant and two nurses, but the
whole responsibility is mine. I managed to send off Mrs Glass and her
husband for a holiday so as to keep them out of it. That was after I had
decided upon the operation. To justify what I was about to do there had
to be no mistake about the necessity. I contrived a final test.
“Less than three weeks ago I saw Hannah and the little girl come to the
house one afternoon. Shortly afterwards Mrs Glass knocked at my door.
Could she ask Hannah to tea and, as Mrs Severe and her friend were being
out until late, might Miss Marie also stay? There was, as she knew, no
need for her to ask me, but my housekeeper is primitive in her ideas of
duty. Of course I readily assented, but I suggested that Marie should
have tea with me; and so it was arranged.
“Before tea she amused herself about the garden. I told her to gather me
a bunch of flowers and when she came in with them I noticed that she had
scratched her arm with a thorn. I hurried through the meal, for I had
then determined what to do. When we had finished, without ringing the
bell, I gave her a chair in front of the fire and sat down opposite her.
There was a true story about a clever goose that I had promised her.
“‘But you are going to sleep, Marie,’ I said, looking at her fixedly.
‘It is the heat of the fire.’
“‘I think I must be,’ she admitted drowsily. ‘Oh, how silly. I can
scarcely keep my eyes open.’
“‘You are going to sleep,’ I repeated. ‘You are very, very tired.’ I
raised my hand and moved it slowly before her face. ‘You can hardly see
my hand now. Your eyes are closed. When I stop speaking you will be
asleep.’ I dropped my hand and she was fast asleep.
“I had made my arrangements and had everything ready. From her arm,
where the puncture of the needle was masked by the scratch, I secured a
few drops of blood. Then I applied a simple styptic to the place and
verified by a more leisurely examination some of the symptoms I had
already looked for. When I woke her, a few minutes later, she had no
inkling of what had passed.
“‘Why,’ I was saying as she awakened, ‘I don’t believe that you have
heard a word about old Solomon!’
“I applied the various laboratory tests to the blood which I had
obtained without delay. The result, taken in conjunction with the other
symptoms, was conclusive. I was resolved upon my course from that
moment. The operation itself was simple and completely successful. The
condition demonstrated the pressing necessity for what I did. Marie
Severe will probably outlive her mother now--especially if the lady
remains faithful to Christian Science. As for the sequel ... I am sorry,
but I don’t regret.”
* * * * *
“A surprise, eh, Inspector?”
Inspector Beedel, accompanied by Mrs Severe and--if the comparative
degree may be used to indicate her relative importance--even more
accompanied by Miss Julp, had arrived at Arling Lodge and been given
immediate admission. It was Carrados who thus greeted him.
Beedel looked at his friend and then at Dr Ellerslie. With unconscious
habit he even noticed the proportions of the room, the position of the
door and window, and the chief articles of furniture. His mind moved
rather slowly, but always logically, and in cases where “sound
intelligence” sufficed he was rarely unsuccessful. He had brought Mrs
Severe to identify Marie, whom he had never seen, and his men remained
outside within whistle-call in case of any emergency. He now saw that he
might have to shift his ground and he at once proceeded cautiously.
“Well, sir,” he admitted, “I did not expect to see you here.”
“Nor did I anticipate coming. Mrs Severe”--he bowed to her--“I think
that we have already met informally. Your friend, Miss Julp, unless I am
mistaken? It is a good thing that we are all here.”
“That is my name, sir,” struck in the recalcitrant Cornelia, “but I am
not aware----”
“At the gate early--very early--this morning, Miss Julp. I recognise
your step. But accept my assurance, my dear lady”--for Miss Julp had
given a start of maidenly confusion at the recollection--“that although
I heard, I did _not_ see you. Well, Inspector, I have since found that I
misled you. The mistake was mine--a fundamental error. You were right.
Mrs Severe was right. Dr Ellerslie is unassailably right. I speak for
him because it was I who fastened an unsupportable motive on his
actions. Marie Severe is in this house, but she was received here by Dr
Ellerslie in his professional capacity and strictly in the relation of
doctor and patient.... Mr Severe has at length admitted that he alone is
to blame. You see, you were right after all.”
“Arthur! Oh!” exclaimed Mrs Severe, deeply moved.
“But why,” demanded the other lady hostilely, “why should the man want
her here?”
“Mr Severe was apprehensive on account of his daughter’s health,”
replied Carrados gravely. “His story is that, fearing something serious,
he submitted her to this eminent specialist, who found a dangerous--a
critical--condition that could only be removed by immediate operation.
Dr Ellerslie has saved your daughter’s life, Mrs Severe.”
“Fiddlesticks!” shouted Miss Julp excitedly. “It’s an outrage--a
criminal outrage. An operation! There was no danger--there couldn’t be
with _me_ at hand. You’ve done it this time, _Doctor_ Ellerslie. My
gosh, but this will be a case!”
Mrs Severe sank into a chair, pale and trembling.
“I can scarcely believe it,” she managed to say. “It is a crime. Dr
Ellerslie--no doctor had the right. Mr Severe has no authority whatever.
The court gave me sole control of Marie.”
“Excuse me,” put in Carrados with the blandness of perfect self-control
and cognisance of his point, “excuse me, but have you ever informed Dr
Ellerslie of that ruling?”
“No,” admitted Mrs Severe with faint surprise. “No. Why should I?”
“Quite so. Why should you? But have you any knowledge that Dr Ellerslie
is acquainted with the details of your unhappy domestic differences?”
“I do not know at all. What do these things matter?”
“Only this: Why should Dr Ellerslie question the authority of a parent
who brings his child? It shows at least that he is the one who is
concerned about her welfare. For all Dr Ellerslie knew, you might be the
unauthorised one, Mrs Severe. A doctor can scarcely be expected to
withhold a critical operation while he investigates the family affairs
of his patients.”
“But all this time--this dreadful suspense. He must have known.”
Carrados shrugged his shoulders and seemed to glance across the room to
where their host had so far stood immovable.
“I did know, Mrs Severe. I could not help knowing. But I knew something
else, and to a doctor the interests of his patient must overrule every
ordinary consideration. Should the occasion arise, I shall be prepared
at any time to justify my silence.”
“Oh, the occasion will arise and pretty sharp, don’t you fear,” chimed
in the irrepressible Miss Julp. “There’s a sight more in this business,
Ida, than we’ve got at yet. A mighty cute idea putting up Severe now. I
never did believe that he was in it. He’s a piece too mean-spirited to
have the nerve. And where is Arthur Severe now? Gone, of course; quit
the country and at someone else’s expense.”
“Not at all,” said Carrados very obligingly. “Since you ask, Miss
Julp”--he raised his voice--“Mr Severe!”