At sight of Roger the Frenchwoman uttered a cry and redoubled her
efforts to get away.
"Roger, make him let go, the old swine, the beast, _le sale chameau_!
I dismiss him here, now; he must leave my house. I will have him
arrested for attacking me. I... Take him away, Roger, do you hear, do
you see what he is doing?"
Before Roger could reply or adjust his confused impressions the old
butler panted out:
"Just pick up that bottle from the floor, sir, if you don't mind, and
put it in a safe place. Then I'll let her ladyship go."
Speechless from amazement, yet forcibly impressed by the old man's
words and serious manner, Roger looked and discovered a bottle of Evian
water standing on the tiled floor a few feet away. He picked it up and
set it high on a shelf over the basin, then quickly closed the door and
stood with his back against it.
"Release her ladyship, Chalmers," he ordered sternly, "and let me hear
the reason of this extraordinary behaviour."
Like a steel spring unloosed Thérèse broke from the butler's grasp and
hurled herself against the door.
"Let me out, let me out! Roger, I shall faint, I shall die!"
He looked at her curiously and stood firm as a rock, Chalmers mopped
his brow with a handkerchief, still breathing with difficulty. Roger
looked from him to Thérèse, who, half-sobbing now, threw herself again
at the door, appealing to him desperately:
"I can't bear it, Roger; I can't breathe the same air with this
horrible creature! Didn't you see how he had hold of me, how he----"
A glint came into Roger's eye; he held her off with one arm.
"Yes, Thérèse, I saw. Now I intend to know why he did it. Tell me the
truth, Chalmers."
The old man, who was recovering his poise, coughed apologetically.
"I know how it must have looked to you, sir, but believe me I had a
good reason. Perhaps you can persuade her ladyship to tell you what
she was about to do with that bottle of mineral water when I came in
and caught her at it."
The cry that burst from Thérèse's lips was like an angry snarl.
"Mineral water! What is the creature talking about I should like to
know?"
Unmoved, the butler continued in reply to Roger's unspoken question.
"If her ladyship won't tell you sir, then I will. When I came in here
to get the brandy, she had that bottle in her hand. She was just going
to pour it down the bath, sir, when I managed to stop her."
"Pour it down the bath!"
"Yes, sir. You may believe it or not, sir, but I should say there was
something in that water her ladyship would like get rid of."
Almost overwhelmed by the tumult of suspicion that rose within him,
Roger found it hard to keep his head. Mastering himself with an effort
and still holding Thérèse off with one arm he managed to ask evenly:
"What gave you this idea, Chalmers?"
"The nurse, sir," was the prompt reply. "There's something serious
behind all this business, and it's my opinion the nurse knows."
Deeply shaken, Roger gazed into the old servant's eyes. What he saw
convinced him that Chalmers had not spoken idly. For that matter he
knew what a degree of certainty it must have required to make the man
attempt such an unheard-of thing as to lay his hands on his mistress.
The inference was staggering.... With a great effort he pulled himself
together, remembering Esther.
"Take the brandy to Miss Clifford, Chalmers. I will stay here a
moment."
He stood aside to allow the butler to pass, then shutting the door
again turned resolutely to Thérèse, trying to conceal from her the
quandary in which he found himself.
"I'm afraid this requires an explanation," he said to her coldly.
"Please tell me what you were going to do with that water."
She bit her lips and faced him defiantly.
"I shall not answer any question that is put in such a way," she
retorted. "Let me pass; I insist on leaving this room."
"Listen to me, Thérèse. A little while ago Miss Rowe made a terrible
accusation concerning you and Sartorius. I begin to think her
statement has got to be investigated. I am giving you a chance now to
explain matters."
"Investigated! Are you serious? Surely you saw for yourself that the
girl is out of her senses?"
"In view of what Chalmers has just told me I am not entirely sure."
"Absurd! Why, the doctor said before she left that he considered her
abnormal. I am sure I have no idea what mad story she has invented,
but as for taking her seriously----!"
"Very well, then, tell me what you were going to do with that water.
Why were you trying to throw it away?"
As he spoke it flashed upon him that on another occasion she had been
in his room. He recalled her flimsy excuse, which she had later on
contradicted.
She began to laugh, cajolingly.
"Don't be ridiculous, Roger; where is your sense of humour? I wasn't
trying to throw anything away, I was fetching that water for Miss Rowe.
I remembered there was none in my room----"
"And why were you sure there was some here? No, Thérèse, that's not
good enough. Here, we can't go into the matter now while Miss Rowe's
life is in danger, but for all that the thing has got to be talked out.
Listen to me: I want you to go to your room and remain there quietly
until that girl is sufficiently recovered to tell me what she knows.
Until then no one can decide whether it is all nonsense or not. Come,
please. I insist on it."
Anger flamed in her eyes.
"I am to remain a prisoner in my own house! You are raving!"
"I am perfectly serious, Thérèse; you have brought it on yourself.
Don't argue. If you refuse you will force me to communicate with ...
the police."
She looked at him as she had done once before, all the venom of her
hate concentrated in her eyes.
"Do you know what you are saying to me?" she whispered between dry
lips. "Do you realise what this means?"
"I do. I have no wish to make this affair public, any more than you
have. Just as long as there remains the possibility of all this
originating in Miss Rowe's imagination, I shall do nothing unless you
compel me to. Come now, what I suggest is in your own interests. If
there's nothing in all this, you are at liberty to bring a suit against
me for libel or anything else you can think of."
After a moment's thought she bowed her head very slightly. He moved
away from the door and let her precede him. As he passed through his
bedroom he put his hand inside the top drawer of his dressing-table
and, feeling half ashamed, slipped something he had not used since the
war into his pocket.... Was the whole thing a monstrous mare's nest?
Was he going to despise himself later on?
With a mind full of doubt he followed the slender black-clad figure out
into the hall.
"The other door, please," he ordered, feeling uncomfortably a brute, as
she was about to go through the boudoir.
With a slight shrug she walked on and entered her own bedroom, closing
the door behind her. He hesitated, then opened the door again,
transferred the key to the outside, and turned it in the lock. He was
putting the key in his pocket, with a rather guilty feeling, when
Chalmers approached him.
"I may have done wrong, sir," he whispered; "if so I am willing to
suffer for it. I followed my instinct, sir, if you understand what I
mean, and there wasn't much time to think."
A look passed between them.
"You needn't say any more, Chalmers, I know you would never have acted
as you did without a strong reason. I take it you heard something from
Miss Rowe when you let her in."
"I did, sir, and I was fair paralysed with what she told me. What's
more, I could take my oath she's as sensible as you or me, let them say
what they will."
The old man's habitually wooden face showed deep emotion.
"See here, Chalmers, lock the door of my room and bring me the key.
We'll see that no one gets in there to tamper with that bottle, just in
case there's anything wrong."
"Yes, sir, and if you'll take my advice, sir, you'll keep an eye on
that doctor. I don't think we can trust him, sir."
With this parting counsel, spoken in a tone of strong conviction, the
butler departed on his mission.
Although burning to know what Esther had said to Chalmers on her
precipitate dash up the stairs, Roger felt his curiosity must remain
unsatisfied for the present. At the moment all that mattered was her
safety, already he had left her too long. He suddenly realised that he
had been away at least five minutes, and assailed by fresh fears he
hurried at once into the boudoir.
He entered confident of finding his aunt in charge of the situation.
The next instant he cursed his folly in ever leaving the room. The old
lady was not there. Instead, the clumsy figure bending over the couch
and concealing its occupant from view was that of Sartorius. To his
excited brain there was a sinister suggestion in the heavy body that
approached so close to the girl lately terrified into unconsciousness.
Roger did not stop to think. He strode forward and with a brusque
movement caught hold of the man's arm and pulled him away. As he did
so his nostrils detected a familiar odour and he caught sight of some
object held in the doctor's hand. Was it a hypodermic syringe? A sick
feeling swept over him.
"What are you doing to her?" he demanded furiously.
The doctor straightened up and for a second the two eyed each other in
tense silence. Then a shadow of contempt passed over the taller man's
face.
"My dear Mr. Clifford," he replied deliberately, "if you go away and
leave this woman in a critical condition for a considerable length of
time, you can hardly expect me not to do what I can for her. You may
even admit that my knowledge of what is best is perhaps more extensive
than yours."
Steadily Roger's eyes met the gaze of the doctor's little cold greyish
ones.
"I don't question your superior knowledge, doctor," he replied with
careful emphasis. "But I am not convinced that you were trying to
revive her. How do I know"--he paused a moment, then continued
slowly--"that you were not doing something to keep her unconscious?"
The suggestion amounted to a slap in the face. He watched keenly to
note the result, and saw the heavy figure draw itself up to its full
height, seeming at the same time to swell out. The broad face with its
sloping, flattish forehead betrayed little if any change of expression.
"You overreach yourself, Mr. Clifford. Your gross insinuation compels
me to go at once to Lady Clifford and inform her that I cannot remain
longer under the same roof with a person who has so offensively
outraged my professional dignity."
He was moving away when Roger stopped him with a gesture.
"I am afraid in the light of what has happened I must make it plain to
you that you are not to hold any communication with Lady Clifford for
the present. I must ask you to remain at the other end of this room
until I give you leave to withdraw."
A sudden gleam shot into the dull little eyes.
"May I ask by what authority you issue orders in this house?"
"I would prefer you didn't ask," retorted Roger with an unwavering
gaze, "because the only answer is an extremely direct one."
As he spoke he slipped his right hand into his pocket with a movement
there was no misunderstanding.
"This is intimidation, Mr. Clifford."
"You are at liberty to give it any name you like. The point is that
only by doing as I say can you avoid at the moment a legal
investigation."
A second or two elapsed while the doctor looked at him silently,
evidently considering the matter. Then without a word he turned and
walked heavily towards the fireplace, where he seated himself in the
big arm-chair. At this precise moment Miss Clifford came back into the
room with a basin of water and a towel. She glanced at the distant
figure of the doctor with slight surprise, then at Roger as though
scenting something amiss.
"He sent me to get these," she murmured uncertainly. "Is she coming
around?"
"You shouldn't have let him come near her," he returned, shaking his
head. "I thought you understood."
She glanced at him in distressed astonishment. Plainly her belief in
the doctor remained quite unshaken; she had as yet not the faintest
conception of the suspicions in her nephew's mind.
"Did I do wrong?" she whispered. "I didn't see how it could make any
difference as long as the poor girl wasn't conscious, and I began to be
frightened. Her pulse is so terribly weak!"
"We must get another doctor here as quickly as possible," announced
Roger with decision. "Ring for Chalmers; he will attend to it. I
daren't leave the room."
However, it was unnecessary to ring. Chalmers entered at that moment
and slipped a key into Roger's hand.
"I'll telephone at once, sir," he said. "There is a doctor quite close
by, a French one, of course, but I dare say he will be good enough."
"Yes, Chalmers, tell him to come at once, that it is serious. If you
can't get him, try another one; don't leave the telephone until you've
found someone. And send one of the maids for a hot-water bottle."
With a nod of understanding the butler went quickly out.
"I'm afraid Thérèse is rather upset by all this," remarked the old lady
as she gently bathed the bloodstains from Esther's pale cheek. "She
can't stand much of this sort of thing."
It seemed to Roger incredible that his aunt should not suspect
something was wrong, yet it was true that she remained in ignorance of
what had taken place in his bathroom a few minutes ago. She was merely
aware that Thérèse had retired to her room without offering to assist
them. Without comment Roger renewed his efforts to resuscitate the
fainting girl. Her face was ashy, her lips bluish. There was no
apparent change in her condition; she continued to lie there so limp
and lifeless that Roger became more and more frightened. Yet great as
was his fear he dared not call in the services of the man by the fire.
Aware of his aunt's mystification and disapproval, he still considered
the doctor the more serious of two dangers.
"It is the strangest case I have ever known," murmured old Miss
Clifford in perplexity. "What do you suppose is the reason for her
turning against the doctor so suddenly? Why, I thought they were on
the best of terms? And where do you suppose she has been? Did you
notice all this mud down the side of her clothes? And no hat, nor
bag--so she must be without money."
He nodded gravely, watching eagerly for the least sign of returning
consciousness. He could not tell whether Sartorius had administered a
_piqûre_ of some kind to her or not, and the uncertainty filled him
with apprehension. He could not rid his mind of Esther's stricken cry,
"If he does that again I'm finished!" What was it she meant? Was it
possible that those red dots on her arm furnished the answer? She
might have been out of her senses when she said that, of course. If
what the doctor averred was the case, then it was part of her delusion
to believe he was trying to injure her. How could one know the truth?
She might die now, so easily; then one could never find out.
She might die----! The fear of this tortured him. The solution of the
mystery, even the question of whether his father's death had been due
to natural causes or not sank into comparative insignificance beside
that terrifying possibility. Nothing could undo what was done, nothing
could bring his father back--but here was this girl whom he loved
apparently about to slip over the border-line before his eyes and he
could do nothing to save her. The thought drove him distracted.
A maid brought the hot-water bottle: they put it near Esther's feet,
which were icy to the touch, even through her thin stockings. They
loosened her clothing, although there was not much to be done in that
line, her slender body being innocent of stays. Presently Miss
Clifford raised an anxious face.
"Don't you think we'd better get _him_ to do something after all?" she
whispered nervously. "I'm rather frightened!"
He frowned and shook his head, at the same time realising how strange
his refusal must strike her. Before he could frame a reasonable reply
Chalmers returned to inform him that he had found a doctor, who would
be with them in a few minutes.
"Thank God! Dido, we'll wait for him."
"Very well, my dear, if you think it's safe."
She glanced doubtfully at the inert form under the pink coverlet.
"I know what you're thinking," he said softly, putting his hand on her
shoulder, "but I believe I am acting for the best. You must simply
take my word for it."
Purposely disregarding her puzzled glance he consulted his watch, then
looked towards the figure seated in the armchair by the fire.
Sartorius, perfectly self-contained, was making entries in a notebook,
apparently little concerned with what went on behind him. A certain
scornful touch about his absolute sang-froid unnerved Roger somewhat.
It made him feel that perhaps he was acting the fool, jumping at false
conclusions. Was Esther's dread of this man purely the creation of a
disordered brain?
"_Pardon, mademoiselle!_"
A woman's voice in the doorway back of him made him start suddenly to
find Thérèse's maid, Aline, eyeing them with a slightly hostile
curiosity.
"_La porte de Madame est fermée à clef. Je demande pardon se je
dérange Mademoiselle et Monsieur!_"
With a deprecatory manner that was irritatingly exaggerated she crossed
the room on tip-toe, bestowing a single searching glance on the sofa
and its occupant. Roger wondered how much she had heard in the
kitchen. He was sure Chalmers would give nothing important away to the
other servants.
"I wonder why Thérèse has locked her door?" Miss Clifford remarked
wonderingly when Aline had disappeared into her mistress's bedroom.
"She doesn't usually.... Listen, Roger, was that a car outside?"
Two minutes later Chalmers, with an air of relief, announced:
"Dr. Bousquet, sir."