THE vicar and his trap passed through the gates of Wellwood and along
a short drive, flanked by wet bushes of rhododendron to the main
entrance. In a voice not at all like his own he said to a heavy, rather
brutal-looking man who opened one of the doors, “Mr. Perry-Hennington
to see Dr. Thorp.”
He was admitted at once to a dim, somber interior, and shown into a
small, stuffy waiting room in which he could hardly breathe. It was
perhaps a relief to find himself quite alone, but in a very short time
the doctor came to him.
The two men were known to each other. It was not Mr. Perry-Hennington’s
first visit to Wellwood; and from time to time they had sat together on
various committees affecting the social welfare of the county.
The vicar’s state of mind did not allow him to give much attention to
Dr. Thorp, otherwise he could hardly have failed to notice that the
chief medical officer of the establishment was in a state of suppressed
excitement.
“I am particularly glad to see you, Mr. Perry-Hennington,” he said.
“I am afraid we are about to lose one of our patients under remarkable
and tragic circumstances. He has not asked for the sacrament to be
administered, but now you are so providentially here, I have no doubt
he will welcome it if he is still able to receive it.”
Dr. Thorp paused, but the vicar did not speak.
“It is our poor dear friend, John Smith. For months he has been slowly
dying. But the end is now at hand. And it comes in very singular
circumstances.”
Again Dr. Thorp paused, again the vicar did not speak.
“I will tell you what they are. Our dear friend, in the course of his
stay among us, wrote a stage play. It was given by him to Mr. Brandon,
who gave it to Mr. Urban Meyer, the great American impresario, who has
caused it to be played all over the world. And its success has been so
extraordinary that it has been awarded the Nobel Prize for peace. But
perhaps you know all this?”
The vicar shook his head.
“The whole story seems incredible,” the doctor went on. “But there
it is. Further, I am informed that Dr. Kurt Christiansen, the great
Scandinavian poet and thinker is coming here this afternoon to present
an address on behalf of his Government. And he is to be accompanied
by Mr. Sigismund Prosser, C.B., representing the Royal Academy of
Literature, by Mr. Brandon, representing our own Government, and by a
representative of the press.
“Of course, Mr. Perry-Hennington, I needn’t say that not only are the
circumstances very unusual, they are also extremely difficult and
embarrassing. The first intimation of this arrangement was from the
Home Office, saying that out of regard for the activities of a neutral
Power, our Government lent its sanction; and that if the patient was
able to receive this act of homage it was felt to be in the public
interest that he should do so. But at the same time it was pointed
out that it would be a further public advantage if the distinguished
visitor was not enlightened as to the nature of this establishment, or
the circumstances in which the play had been written. Well, I mentioned
the matter at once to our poor friend, and I was able to reply that,
although the patient was extremely weak and his death perhaps a
question of a few days, he would gladly receive the deputation.
“On the strength of that assurance the arrangements have gone forward.
The deputation is due at Wellwood in rather less than half an hour,
but I grieve to say that our poor dear, but evidently greatly
gifted, friend, whose loss we shall all mourn deeply, is now losing
consciousness.”
“Losing consciousness.” The vicar repeated the words as if he hardly
understood them.
“Yes.” The doctor spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “It may or may not
be a final phase. There may be a slight rally which will enable him to
receive the honor about to be paid him. On the other hand it is almost
too much to hope for now. Every kind of stimulant has been already
administered, but the action of the heart is very feeble and I am sadly
afraid that the deputation is making its journey in vain.”
“Am I too late?” gasped the vicar.
“Not to do your office, I hope. The patient may still be able to
receive the sacrament.”
“May I see him?”
“I shall be very glad for you to do so.”
“Let me go to him at once,” gasped the vicar wildly.