"Can you do it, doctor?" she said, gripping my arm tight. "Can you let
him see her alive?"
"Yes--I think so.... But he will have to come to-night."
She left the room, and for a while I stood by the window staring out
into the night. Was it my imagination, or did I see the head-lights of
a car coming over the pass in the distance? He would have to come that
way if he'd crossed from Kyle to Lochalsh.... But they had vanished
again, and I couldn't remember if the road dipped behind a rise there or
not....
"Do you often go to London, Doctor Morton?" The invalid's voice was a
little stronger, and I crossed to the bed.
"Very often, Mrs. MacDerry," I answered. "In fact, except when I'm
abroad, I generally live there. At the moment I've come up here to
work...."
"Ah! I see." ... She smiled faintly. "I haven't been to London for
over twenty years. I haven't left Skye for over twenty years.... I
suppose it's changed a lot...."
"Yes--I think you'd find it different to twenty years ago.... Motors
everywhere instead of hansoms...."
"I've never been in a motor-car," she said, still with the same sweet
smile. "I've been buried, doctor--just buried...."
"You could not have chosen a lovelier tomb," I answered, gently; and she
nodded her head.
"Those are three delightful Corots you have downstairs," I continued
after a moment. "I was admiring them before I came up...."
She looked at me quickly.
"You know about such things, do you?"
"I'm a collector myself in a mild way," I answered.
"They belong to my husband," she said, abruptly; and once more closed
her eyes. "Tell me, doctor," she continued after a while, "what is
happening in London?"
"The usual things, Mrs. MacDerry.... In that respect I don't think
there is much change since you were there. The world dances and goes to
theatres as ever...."
"But is there no big event," she persisted, "in the season this year?
... No big ball ... or ... or marriage?"
"Why, yes," I answered, "there's a big marriage.... It's just taken
place...." And though I saw those two fragile hands clenched tight, no
suspicion dawned on me as I spoke. "Lord Fingarton's only son has just
married the Duke of Sussex's youngest daughter...."
"And what do they say of Lord Fingarton's only son?" she demanded. "Is
he a worthy successor of his father?"
"They say that he's a good lad," I answered. "I thought so myself when I
spoke to him the other night...."
"You spoke to him?" she cried. "Tell me about him--everything you
can...."
And still I did not suspect.... I told her of the boy; I sketched him
for her to the best of my ability, and she listened eagerly. And then
when I had finished, something--I know not what--made me add one
sentence for which, till my dying day, I shall be thankful.
"There is only one criticism," I said, "which I can make. And that was
given by a man who knew the first Lady Fingarton well. Good though this
boy is--he is not _quite_ so good as the one who died...."
"Who was the man who said that?" she whispered, breathlessly.
"Sir William Lakington--the great heart specialist," I answered, and at
that moment clear and distinct through the still night came the
thrumming of a motor-car.
"Is it--my husband?" She listened tensely, and I crossed to the window.
The car had stopped outside the gate, and already a man was striding up
the narrow path to the front door.
"He has come, Mrs. MacDerry," I said, cheerfully.... "Now I want you to
have another drink of this...."
I poured out the dose, and as I held the glass to her lips, the bedroom
door gently opened and a man came in. I glanced up at him to ensure
silence, and met a pair of piercing eyes, which were staring at me from
under great bushy eyebrows. His huge frame seemed to fill the whole
doorway; then, on tiptoe he crept towards the bed.
I laid the glass down, and turned away. My part was over, save for a
word of warning. And so I beckoned to him, and he followed me to the
window.
"You have not got long, Mr. MacDerry," I whispered. "The sands are very
low." It was then that I noticed a huge roll of illustrated papers
under his arm. "I shall be downstairs: call me if you want me."
"Is it the end?" he whispered, and I bowed gravely.
"It is the end," I answered.
I heard him whisper, "Thank God I was in time"; and then I left them
together.
For maybe half an hour I sat in the room downstairs. Once the maid came
in to know if I would have anything to eat, and after that the house
grew very silent. Only the murmur of a man's deep voice above broke the
stillness, and at length that, too, ceased. And then suddenly I heard
him calling me from the landing, and went upstairs.
One glance was enough, and he looked at my face and understood.
Mechanically I stooped and picked up one of the papers that had slipped
off the bed: then I moved away ... I could do no more for the sweet old
lady: she had passed beyond all earthly aid.
I put the paper on the table within the circle of light thrown by the
lamp. It was a copy of the _Tatler_ open at the page of photographs
taken at the big wedding. There was one of young Landon and his
bride--a good photo: and then I found myself staring foolishly at one of
the others. I bent forward to examine it closer; there was no mistaking
the great spare frame and thick eyebrows. Why had Robert, Sixteenth
Earl of Fingarton, rushed post-haste from the wedding of his son to the
death-bed of Mrs. MacDerry? And why had she called him--husband?...
*III*
It was the following day that, closely muffled up, he came into my room
as I worked.
"Do I disturb you, Sir Richard?" he asked as I rose.
So he had made inquiries about my name.... "Not at all," I answered,
gravely. "Sit down."
He took the chair I indicated, and for a while he stared at me in
silence.
"It was unfortunate that Doctor Lee was out," he said at length. "And
Hannah--the maid--had naturally no idea who you were. I, on the
contrary, know you well by reputation...."