A FRIEND AT COURT
Jessie's prevailing feeling was not one of fear; rather was she moved by
an intense, overpowering curiosity. She lingered behind the palm
wondering what was going to happen next. She could see between the
graceful hanging leaves the puzzled expression on Lady Merehaven's face.
"But, my dear doctor, what you say is absurd," she was saying. "I saw
Vera pass not five minutes ago. And if she had met with an accident and
been conveyed to Charing Cross Hospital, why---- But the thing is out of
the question."
"And yet I feel perfectly certain of my facts," Dr. Varney persisted.
"It is true that I was in a hurry, and that the young lady I allude to
was fast asleep--at any rate, nearly asleep. My dear lady, seeing that I
was present at Vera's birth, and that all these years I have known her
so intimately----"
Jessie came leisurely into sight. It was impossible to let this matter
go any further. By chance the doctor had learnt something, and his mouth
must be closed if possible. She came along with a smile and a hand
outstretched.
"You are very late, doctor," she said. "I have been looking forward to a
chat with you."
For once in his life Dr. Varney was genuinely astonished. He looked at
Jessie in a vague, dreamy kind of way, though fortunately Lady Merehaven
did not glance up and notice his face.
"There, you unbelieving man!" she cried. "Vera does not look as if she
had met with anything serious in the way of an accident."
Dr. Varney pulled himself together promptly and took Jessie's
outstretched hand. There was a twinkle in his shrewd eyes as he held the
girl's fingers.
"Extraordinary mistake of mine, wasn't it?" he said. "Could have sworn
that I saw you lying half asleep in one of the wards of Charing Cross
Hospital. Case of shock and injured ankle. People said the patient
called herself Harcourt, but could not recollect her address. Young
girls have such queer escapades nowadays that----"
"But surely you know me better than that?" Jessie forced herself to say.
"I'm not quite so sure that I do," Varney chuckled. "However, the girl
was very like you. Come and give me a sandwich and a glass of claret,
and we'll talk of old times."
Jessie expressed herself as delighted, but inwardly she was praying for
some diversion. She was quite convinced that the doctor was by no means
satisfied; she could see that he was a shrewd, clever man of the world,
and that he meant to question her adroitly. If once the conversation
drifted to old times, she felt that she must be discovered.
But Varney ate his sandwich and sipped his claret and water with no
reference to the past. He looked at Jessie once or twice in an
abstracted kind of way. She felt that she must talk, that she must say
something to start a safe conversation.
"What are you thinking about, doctor?" she asked.
"I am thinking," was the startling reply, "that you are one of the
finest actresses I have ever seen. The stage is the poorer for your
absence."
Jessie's heart sank within her; there was no mistaking the dry
significance of the speech. This man was sure of his ground; he had
found her out. And yet there was a kindly look on his face, not as if he
were dealing with an impostor at all.
"What do you mean?" Jessie asked. "I do not in the least understand
you."
"Oh yes, you do; you understand me perfectly well. I don't know who you
are, but I most assuredly know who you are _not_, and that is Vera
Galloway. Mind, I am not accusing you of being a type of the mere vulgar
impostor. I would trust you against the world."
"It is very good of you to say so," Jessie gasped. "You are not going to
assume that--that----"
"That you are here for any evil purpose? With a face like yours the idea
is impossible. As I was passing through the wards of the hospital just
now, to my surprise I saw Vera Galloway there. I knew her not only by
her face and figure, but by the dimples round her wrists. Now your
wrists are very long and slender, and you have no dimples at all. Many
men would have let out the whole thing, but not so me. I find that the
patient has given the name of Harcourt, and that she has forgotten her
address. Forgive me if I scented a scandal. That is why I led up so
carefully to Lady Merehaven. But when you came on the scene I guessed
exactly what had happened. You were engaged to play Vera's part when she
was up to something elsewhere. I confess I am not altogether without
sorrow that so charming a girl----"
"Indeed, I am quite sure that there was nothing really wrong," Jessie
cried. "From what I have seen of Miss Galloway I am quite sure that she
is not that class of girl. But for this unfortunate accident.... Dr.
Varney, you will not betray me?"
"Well, I won't," Varney cried, "though I am no doubt an old fool for my
pains. It's very lucky that a clear head like mine has been imported
into the business. Now, in the first place, tell me who you are and what
you are doing here. I know you will be candid."
"I will tell you everything," Jessie said. She was utterly thankful that
the case was no worse. "My name is Jessie Harcourt, and up to a few
hours ago I was a shop-girl in Bond Street."
"That sounds quite romantic. A shop-girl in Bond Street and a lady by
birth and breeding, too. Which branch of the family do you belong to?"
"The Kent Harcourts. My father was Colonel Harcourt, of the Royal
Galways."
"Really now!" Varney exclaimed. "I knew your father quite well years
ago. I was an army doctor myself for a long time. Your father was an
extravagant man, my dear--always was. And he left you poor?"
"He left my sister and myself penniless. We were fit for nothing either.
And that is why I found my way into a Bond Street shop. I was discharged
because I was supposed to have flirted with the son of a customer. My
indignant protest that the cowardly cad tried to kiss me counted for
nothing. As the complaining customer was the Princess Mazaroff----"
"And her son the culprit," Varney said, with a queer gleam in his eyes.
"My dear child, you have done well to confide in me. But go on, tell me
everything."
Jessie proceeded to relate her story at length, from the time that she
met Vera Galloway down to the existing moment. And the romantic side of
the royal story was not suppressed. Nor could Jessie feel that she had
not an interested listener.
"This is one of the most remarkable stories that I have ever heard,"
Varney said. "And as a doctor in a large way of practice, I have heard
some singular ones. I fancy that I can see my way clear now. And I know
what you don't know--that Vera is taking a desperate step for the sake
of a man she loves. It is quite plain to me why you are here. Well,
well! I am doing quite wrong, but I am going to keep your secret."
"That is indeed good of you," Jessie said gratefully. "But there is more
to be done. My dear doctor, I can see my way to important information
without which it is impossible for me to sustain my present role until
Miss Galloway comes home again. It is imperative that I should have a
few words with her. You can give me a permit for the hospital
authorities. After that the rest is easy."
"I quite see your point," Varney said thoughtfully. "You are as clever
as you are courageous. But how are you going to manage this without
being missed?"
"I am going to make use of another," Jessie laughed. All her courage had
come back to her now. "I am going to make use of a gentleman known as
Pongo. He is supposed to be very fond of me as Vera Galloway. He does
not seem to be a very harmful individual."
"Honourable George Lascelles," Varney muttered. "There is a good deal
of good in Pongo, though he assumes the role of an ass in society. Once
he marries and settles down he will be quite different. But how do you
propose to enlist him in the service?"
Jessie proceeded to explain the silly business of the motor-car in the
lane behind the house.
"I shall get him to take me to Charing Cross Hospital," she said. "You
may be quite certain that Vera Galloway is not asleep. A few minutes
with her will be quite enough for my purpose. And I shall be back again
before I am missed. Do you approve?"
"I have to whether I like it or not," Varney grumbled, "though this is a
nice predicament for a man in my position and my time of life. I'll go
as far as the library and scribble out that permit, though what the
College of Physicians would say if they only knew----"
And Varney strode off muttering as he went. But the twinkle was in his
eyes still.