THE INTERVIEW WITH THE DOCTOR.
Dr. Davenal was alone in his study, pacing the carpet with heavy
steps and a face that seemed to have all the care of the world marked
on it, when Mr. Oswald Cray was shown in. Oswald could not avoid being
struck with that expression of care; he had never seen the like upon
the countenance of Dr. Davenal.
Turning his head, he looked at Oswald for the space of a minute as if
not recognising him. He was too deeply buried in his own thoughts
immediately to awake from them to everyday life.
"Good-evening, Dr. Davenal."
He took Oswald's outstretched hand, and was himself again. Oswald sat
down and the doctor too. But after a few words, he rose, apparently in
restlessness, and began to pace the room as before.
"Are you in any grief, doctor?"
"Well--yes I am," was the reply. "Or perhaps I should rather say in
vexation, for that is chiefly it. We have had a line from Edward by
the day post, and he expresses a doubt whether he shall be able to get
down to say farewell. These young soldiers grow careless of home ties,
Mr. Oswald Cray."
"Not soldiers in particular, do they, sir? It is a reproach that can
be cast upon many others who live in the world."
"And get enslaved by it. True."
"I did not mean altogether that, Dr. Davenal. When does your son
sail?"
"On Sunday morning, he says. He does not positively say he is not
coming down, only gives a hint that he fears he cannot. What did I do
with the letter?" continued the doctor, looking round. "I brought it
in with me after dinner. Oh, there it is," he added, seeing it on a
side table, and giving it to Oswald. "You can read what he says. Sara
won't mind. It is written for us all as well as for her, I expect
Edward was never a voluminous correspondent; his letters are generally
_pro bono publico_."
Oswald saw it was addressed to Miss Sara Davenal, and began to read
it. It was dated the previous evening.
"My Darling Sister,--"
We are in all the bustle and hurry of the start. Orders have come at
last, and we embark from Southampton on Sunday morning. I _hope_ I
shall get down to you to say goodbye. I am not unmindful of my promise
to do so, and will do all I can to keep it; poor Dick used to tell me
that I knew how to break promises better than I knew how to make them,
but it shall not be my fault if you have to east that on me as a last
reproach. To absent one's-self, even for an hour, is a difficult task
now, but I will manage it, if possible. We have been worked off our
heads and legs for the last few days.
"Love to all. I suppose Carry is fairly installed at the Abbey; wish
her all good luck for me.--Ever yours, in much haste,
"E. F. Davenal."
"You see," said the doctor, halting and pointing to the letter, "he
emphasises the word 'hope.' 'I _hope_ I shall get down.' That very
fact is sufficient to tell me that he knows he shall not get down, and
these lines have been sent as a sort of preparation for the final
disappointment. And he is going out for years! But I won't blame him;
perhaps it is an impossibility to him to get away. He should have
remained longer when he came down for the wedding--have made it his
farewell visit. I said so then."
Dr. Davenal began his walk to and fro again,--a very slow, thoughtful
walk. Oswald folded the letter and laid it on the table.
"I have ever loved my children--I was going to say passionately, Mr.
Oswald Cray. I believe few parents can love as I have loved. I have
made--I have made sacrifices for them which the world little reeks of,
and anything like ingratitude touches me to the heart's core. But in
the midst of it I am the first to find excuses for them, and I say
that Edward may not be at all to blame in this."
"I think it very likely that he is quite unable to get away, however
much he may wish it," observed Oswald.
"I think so too. I say I don't blame him. Only one feels these
things."
There ensued a silence. A feeling of dislike had come over Oswald (and
he could not trace it to any particular cause) to enter upon the
subject of Lady Oswald. But he was not one to give way to these
fanciful phases of feeling which appear to arise without rhyme or
reason, and he was about to speak when the doctor forestalled him.
"Lady Oswald's death has brought you down, I presume?"
"Yes. I was in ignorance of it until this morning, when a formal
invitation to attend the funeral reached me from the undertaker. I had
just read the announcement of the death in the 'Times.' How shocked I
was, I cannot well express to you."
"It has shocked us all."
"Of course its reaching me in that abrupt manner, in the public column
of deaths, did not tend to lessen the shock. I rather wonder you did
not drop me a line yourself, Dr. Davenal."
"I was away afterwards. Called out to a distance, I did not get back
for a day or two. Did Mark not write?"
"Nobody wrote. Neither Mark nor Parkins; nor anybody else. As to Mark,
he is careless as the wind; and Parkins excuses herself on the plea of
having been so bewildered. I can readily believe her. Dr. Davenal, she
died, as I am given to understand, from the effects of chloroform!"
"We thought, on the night of the accident, you know, that she was not
seriously injured," said Dr. Davenal. "At least, Mark thought it: I
had my doubts: but I left him to see to her at her own desire.
Unfortunately I was called out early on Sunday morning. I was wanted
at Thorndyke: and when I got back the injury had been ascertained, and
an operation found necessary. It was under that operation she died."
"But the operation was performed successfully?"
"Quite so."
"And what she died of was the inhaling of the chloroform?"
"It was."
"But--I cannot understand why chloroform should have been given to
her?" deliberately proceeded Oswald.
"It _was_ given to her," was all the reply he obtained.
"But--pardon me for recalling it to you, Dr. Davenal--do you remember
the very decided opinion you expressed to me, when we were going down
to the scene of accident, against giving chloroform to Lady Oswald? We
were speaking of its opposite effects upon different natures, and you
cited Lady Oswald as one to whom, in your opinion, it might prove
dangerous. You stated that, so far as you believed, it would be
neither better nor worse to her than poison."
Oswald waited for a reply, but the doctor made none. He was pacing the
small room with his measured tread, his hands in his pockets, his eyes
bent on the carpet.
"Have you any objection to explain to me this apparent contradiction?
It is impossible to believe that one, whose opinion of chloroform in
relation to her was so fatal, would in a few hours cause her to inhale
it."
Dr. Davenal stopped in his walk and confronted Oswald.
"Have you seen Mark since you came down?"
"Yes."
"And what does he say?"
"Well, I don't fancy he understands it much better than I do. He
reiterates that it was given her for the best. In his opinion it may
have been. But it surely could not have been in yours, Dr. Davenal."
Dr. Davenal turned from Oswald to his pacing again. A strong
temptation was upon him to tell Oswald the truth. O that he had! that
he had!
There were few people in the world whom he esteemed as he esteemed
Oswald Cray. There was no one else in the world to whom he had
expressed this opinion of the unfitness of Lady Oswald as a subject
for chloroform, and the wish to explain, to exonerate himself, arose
forcibly within him. The next moment he asked himself why Mark Cray
himself had not spoken. As he had not, it seemed to Dr. Davenal that
it would be a breach of friendship, of _partnership_, for him to
speak. Oswald was connected, too, with Lady Oswald, and might take up
the matter warmly. No, he felt in his ever-considerate heart that he
could not betray Mark, could not set one brother against the other.
And he put the temptation from him.
Oswald watched him as he walked, wondering at the silence. A silence
which the doctor evidently did not feel inclined to break.
"Do you remember expressing this opinion to me, Dr. Davenal?"
"Yes, I believe I did so express it."
"And yet you acted in diametrical opposition to it immediately
afterwards, and caused Lady Oswald to inhale chloroform? Will you
forgive me for again asking how it could have been?"
"The very best of us are led into error sometimes," replied Dr.
Davenal.
"Why, that is one of the remarks Mark has just made to me in
connection with this case! I cannot recognise it as applying to it.
You spoke so firmly, so positively, that I should have believed there
was no room for error to creep in. I feel that there is something to
be explained, Dr. Davenal."
Dr. Davenal wheeled round in his walk and confronted Oswald.
"There are circumstances connected with this case, Mr. Oswald Cray,
which I cannot explain to the world; which I cannot explain even to
you; although I would rather tell them to you than to any one. Let it
suffice to know that _I could not save Lady Oswald_. It was not in my
power."
"But you could have saved--you could have helped giving her the
chloroform?" returned Oswald, wonderingly.
A slight pause. "Will you oblige me by asking no further questions on
the subject--by allowing it to drop, to me and to others? Believe me,
I have no selfish motive in pressing this. No one living can regret
more than I the fatal result to Lady Oswald; perhaps nobody regrets it
so keenly. Could I have saved her, no care, no skill, no labour,
should have been spared. But I could not. I can only ask you to be
satisfied with this meagre assurance, Mr. Oswald Cray and to believe
me when I state that I have private reasons for declining to pursue
the topic."
"And--pardon me--one more question: To what am I to attribute her
death in my own mind? Or rather this giving of the chloroform?"
"You must look upon it as an error in judgment. It was such."
It was impossible for Oswald Cray, as a gentleman, to press further
the matter. Dr. Davenal was an old man compared with him; one of high
reputation, skill, position. He could not understand it, but he could
only bow to the request--nay, to the demand--and let the subject sink
into silence. An awkward pause ensued. The doctor had not resumed his
promenade, but stood under the gas-lamp, twirling a quill pen in his
fingers which he had taken up.
"How are the other sufferers from the accident getting on?" inquired
Oswald, when the silence was beginning to be heard.
"Oh, quite well. Poor Bigg the fireman is nearly the only one of them
left in the Infirmary, and he will soon be out of it. The rest came
off mostly with a few cuts and bruises. There's a summons for me, I
suppose."
The doctor alluded to a knock at the hall-door. Neal came in.
"Mr. Wheatley, sir. He wishes to know if you can spare him ten
minutes."
"Yes," replied the doctor, and Oswald rose.
"Will you walk upstairs and see them?"
"Not tonight, thank you."
"I won't press you," said the doctor. "Sara is cut up about this news
from Edward, terribly disappointed; and Aunt Bett is as cross as two
sticks. She is fond of Edward, with all her ungraciousness to him, and
she looks upon this hint of not coming down as a slight to herself. In
manner she was always ungracious to the boys, from some idea I believe
that it tended to keep them in order. But she loved them at heart.
Goodnight."
Dr. Davenal clasped his hand with a warm pressure, warmer than usual;
Oswald could not but feel it, and he went out perfectly mystified.
Neal stepped on to open the front gate. Neal was always remarkably
courteous and deferent to Mr. Oswald Cray. Oswald, who had only seen
the best side of Neal, and never suspected there was a reverse one,
looked upon him as a man to be respected, a faithful old retainer of
the Oswald family. Lady Oswald had sung his praises times out of
number in Oswald's ear, and she once told Oswald to try for Neal
should he ever require a servant about his person, for he would find
Neal a man of fidelity, worth his weight in gold. Oswald believed her.
He believed Neal to be faithful and true; one whom doubt could not
touch.
"This death of your late mistress is a very sad thing, Neal."
"O sir! I can't express to you how I have felt it. I'm sure I can say
that my lady was a true friend to me, the only one I had left."
"No, no, Neal. Not the only one. You may count a friend in me--if only
in respect to the regard you were, I know, held in by Lady Oswald."
"Thank you, sir, greatly;" and honest Neal's eyes swam in tears as he
turned them to Mr. Oswald Cray under the light of his master's
professional gas-lamp. "Sir," he added, swaying forward the gate and
dropping his voice as he approached nearer to Oswald, "how came that
poison, that chloroform, to be given to her?"
"I cannot tell; I cannot understand," replied Oswald, speaking upon
impulse, not upon reflection.
"Sir, if I might dare to say a word"--and Neal glanced round with
caution on all sides as he spoke--"I'd ask whether it was given in
fairness?"
"What do you mean, Neal?"
"There's not a person in the world I'd venture to whisper such a thing
to, sir, except yourself; but I doubt whether it _was_ given in
fairness. I have a reason for doubting it, sir; a particular reason.
It makes me sick, sir, to think that there was some unfair play
brought to work, and that it took her life."
"Unfair play on the part of whom?" asked Oswald.
"I am not sure that I dare say, sir, even to you. And it might be
looked upon as--as--fancy on my part. One thing is certain, sir, that
but for that chloroform being given to her, she'd be alive now."
"Dr. Davenal and Mr. Cray gave the chloroform, Neal," observed Mr.
Oswald Cray, in a somewhat distant tone--for it was not to Neal he
would admit any doubt, scarcely condescend to hear any, of the
judgment of the surgeons. "They know better about such things than we
do."
"Yes, sir," answered Neal, as drily as he dared. "Mr. Cray, I am sure,
did _his_ best, but he has not had the judgment and experience of my
master. Anyway, it seems it was the chloroform that killed her."
"As it has killed others before her--when administered in all
deliberate judgment by surgeons of as high repute and practice as Dr.
Davenal. The issues of life and death are not even in a doctor's
hands, Neal. Goodnight."
"Goodnight to you, sir."
Oswald Cray walked slowly towards his temporary home, the "Apple
Tree," half bewildered with the conjectural views opened out to him,
and not the least with that last hint of Neal's. He could not get over
that giving of the chloroform by Dr. Davenal in the very teeth of his
expressed opinion against it. He had supposed, when he first heard of
the cause of death, that this contradiction would be explained away:
but, instead of that it was more unexplainable than before. There was
Mark's confused manner, his covert attempts to avoid inquiry; there
was Dr. Davenal's positive denial to satisfy it; there was the man
Neal's curious hint. Oswald Cray felt as one in a maze, trying to get
at something which eluded his grasp.
How the imagination runs riot, how utterly unamenable it is to the
rules and regulations of sober control, we most of us know.
Oswald found his mind balancing the question, "Did Richard Davenal
give that chloroform in his calm deliberate senses, believing that it
might take her life? If so, where was the motive?" Men don't do such
things in these days without a motive; the greatest criminal must have
_that_. Oswald Cray could see none. There was no motive, or shadow of
motive, for Dr. Davenal's wishing for the death of Lady Oswald. Quite
the contrary; it was his interest--if so worldly a plea may be brought
into proximity with these solemn thoughts--to keep her in life. Of all
his patients, she perhaps was the most profitable, paying him a good
sum yearly. Then--with the want of motive, those dark doubts, born of
his imagination, fell to the ground, and he had the good sense to see
that they did.
They fell to the ground. And Oswald Cray, as he awoke with a start,
and shook himself clear of them, pinched his arms to see whether he
was awake. Surely only in his sleep could doubts such as those have
arisen of Dr. Davenal!