“Is Deeming looking ill, Lord Elyn?” he asked. “You say it is a pity he
doesn’t take the medicine he prescribes for you.”
“I think him looking very ill—pale and worried and played out. He is
too great a success and pays the penalty—works too hard, like most
successful men. He ought to have prolonged his holiday in Rome. I can’t
imagine why he hurried back to town so unexpectedly.”
“Oh,” I said, “I can explain that. He was summoned to town by an
important patient.”
“Really!” said Lord Elyn. “I never heard of it.”
He sounded slightly incredulous.
“I saw him almost directly he arrived,” he added; “and when I inquired
why he had shortened his trip to Italy, he merely told me that he was
all right and had got sick of doing nothing.”
“Well,” I answered, “he left Rome at a moment’s notice, and gave me the
reason I told you.”
“Oh! Well, then, of course, it was so. A pity for him—though not for
us, eh? He’s a wonderful doctor. No one like him. And now, if you’ll
excuse me, I must take exercise. I keep walking the whole time, by
command.”
He nodded, and went off up the deck at a brisk pace.
“I’m sorry to hear that about Deeming,” I said to Vernon.
“Yes. It’s a pity he was called away from Rome.”
His voice, too, sounded incredulous.
“Why d’you say it like that?” I asked. “You don’t think he told us a
lie?”
“Why put it so cruelly? He may have made an excuse. When one receives a
boring dinner-invitation, one has sometimes a previous engagement.”
“A dinner-invitation! Surely you don’t⸺?”
“Well, he was to have dined with me the night of the day he left. But,
of course, it may have been a pure coincidence.”
Lord Elyn passed us again, and repassed.
“I say, Luttrell,” Vernon added, “what do you say to one more night out
of London? What do you say to a night at the Burlington?”
“At Dover?”
“Yes.”
“But the luggage! It’s all registered through.”
“We’ve got our dressing-cases, and my man has a bag with my pyjamas.
Evening dress doesn’t matter for a night. I’m sure the Burlington will
forgive us, especially if we engage a sitting-room.”
“Oh, yes, that doesn’t matter.”
“What do you say, then?”
“I don’t know that I mind, but—what’s made you think of it all of a
sudden? Have you taken a violent fancy to Lord Elyn?”
My voice was challenging. He only smiled quietly.
“A very violent fancy. I like obedient men.”
Lord Elyn passed once more with a serious, determined air. He did not
look at us. He was intent on his medicine.
“You’re joking.”
“So were you.”