A DYING MAN
I had known Lady Dennisford for a good many years in a neighborly sort
of way; but the woman who stood before me in the small sitting-room to
which I had led her was a stranger to me. She had raised her veil; she
was as pale as a woman may be, and her mouth, usually so firm and
uncompromising, was now relaxed and tremulous. Before she spoke, I knew
that tragedy was in the room with me. She tried to speak twice before the
words came.
"Mr. Courage," she said, "may I speak to you as a friend?"
"Most certainly you can, Lady Dennisford," I answered.
I said and I meant it, for I was exceedingly sorry for her.
"Once I was to have married him," she said, "and I have cared for no one
else all my life. There was a great scandal--a political scandal--and it
was he upon whom the burden fell. His lips were sealed. I did not
understand then, but I understand now. I sent him away! I joined with the
others who persecuted him. And all the time--all the time he was
innocent!"
Her last words were almost a wail. I was relieved to see that the tears
were in her eyes at last.
"It was very hard fortune," I said awkwardly.
"His life has been one long exile," she said. "He has never married; he
has been dead to the world for many years. His name, of course, is not
Leslie Guest! If I dared tell you, you would understand I want him--oh! I
want him so much to have a few years of happiness."
"What can we do, Lady Dennisford?" I asked earnestly.
"Take me up to him. Leave me with him alone."
I opened the door.
"At once!" I said.
He was still writing. The air of the room was thick with cigarette smoke.
I opened the door gently, and Lady Dennisford glided past me. I myself
hastened downstairs.
Mr. Stanley was apparently very comfortable. He was smoking one of my
best cigars, and a whisky and soda stood at his elbow. He looked up from
behind the _Times_ as I entered.
"Lady Dennisford is with him," I said. "She will endeavor to persuade him
to see you."
"Excellent!" he remarked. "Pray do not trouble to stay with me, if you
have other matters to attend to. I have both time and patience to spare."
I went out into the garden. I began to feel the need of being alone.
Events had marched rapidly with me during the last few hours and I was
not used to such eruptions in my quiet life. I gave a few orders to my
bailiff and gamekeeper, who were waiting to see me. I little guessed then
how unimportant to me would be the prospects of the coming sport. It must
have been nearly an hour before a servant found me, and announced that my
guest desired to see me in his room. I hastened there at once.
Lady Dennisford was sitting at the table by Guest's side. She looked up
as I entered, and I saw that the shadows lay deeper still upon her face.
"He chooses death!" she said simply.
He leaned over and touched her hand. His tone and manner had softened
wonderfully.
"Eleanor," he said earnestly, "it is not I who choose. There is no
choice! Your friend downstairs would say, 'Tell me all that you know of a
certain matter, and the sentence which has been passed upon you shall be
held over.' But when I had told him, when he knew everything, no
agreement, no promise, could possibly be binding. I could not myself
expect it. In his place I should make very sure that in a matter of hours
I was a dead man. I say that myself, whose whole life has been sacrificed
to a matter in which honor was largely concerned."
Lady Dennisford began to weep softly. He laid his hand upon hers.
"Are you sure, Mr. Guest," I said, "that you are not exaggerating the
importance of this secret knowledge of yours? I dare say that Mr.
Stanley, like every other man, has his price. If money--"
He interrupted me with a slight gesture of impatience.
"My young friend," he said, "I am not a poor man. Mr. Stanley is not to
be dealt with as a single individual. He represents a system. I do not
blame you for not being able to grasp these things. There is scarcely one
Englishman in a thousand who would. I think that you have shown a great
amount of trust as it is. Believe me now when I tell you that there are
only two things in the world which can be done for me. The first is that
you leave me a few minutes to say good-bye to Lady Dennisford; and the
second that you keep every one away from me for one hour, while I
Finish--these documents."
I left them alone! There was nothing else which I could do, and I waited
in the hall below for Lady Dennisford.
When she came, she walked like a woman in a dream. Her veil was close
drawn, and I could not see her face; but I was very sure that she had
been weeping. I had already ordered her carriage round, and she took her
place in it without a word.
I went back to the man whom I had left in the library.
He had lighted a fresh cigar, and was showing no signs of impatience.
"Our friend," I said, "has asked for one hour for consideration. If you
will allow me, I should be pleased to show you the gardens and stables."
He accepted my offer at once, and proved himself an intelligent
sightseer. He seemed to know a little about everything, including horses.
I took him on to the orchid-houses, and it was quite an hour and a half
before we returned to the house. I left him once more in the library, and
I was on my way upstairs, when I came face to face with Rust and another
man on their way down. For a moment I was speechless.
"Professor Kauppmann was unfortunately indisposed," Rust explained; "but
he has sent this gentleman down--Dr. Kretznow, Mr. Courage. Curiously
enough, Dr. Kretznow has already been called in to attend our friend
upstairs."
"Mr. Courage no doubt remembers me," the newcomer remarked. "I am sorry
to find our patient no better."
I looked him steadily in the face.
"You think that he will die?" I asked.
"I must admit," the doctor answered, "that I think he has very little
chance of recovery. His constitution has gone. He has no recuperative
powers."
Rust drew me a little on one side.
"You will be relieved to hear," he said, "that Dr. Kretznow considers
his state quite a natural one. He does not encourage in any way the
suspicions which, I must admit, I had formed."
"Indeed!" I answered.
"We are going to try an altogether new treatment," Rust continued, as we
stood together upon the landing. "I think perhaps you ought to know,
however, that our friend here gives very little hope."
I nodded.
"I shall leave you to entertain Dr. Kretznow," I said, "for a few
minutes. I want to see Mr. Guest!"
I found him anxiously awaiting me. He had ceased writing but he held a
roll of papers in his hand, and there was an ominous bulge in the pocket
of his dressing-gown. He had more color than I had yet seen him with, and
his eyes were unusually bright.
"For Heaven's sake come in, Courage, and close the door," he said
irritably. "You see the result of your little doctor meddling with things
he does not understand. I could have told you that no one would be
allowed to enter these doors who might possibly give them away."
"We sent for Kauppmann," I explained.
"Of course! You will not realize what you are up against. You might as
well have sent for the Angel Gabriel. Now will you do exactly as I ask
you?"
"Go on," I said.
"Ring for your man and let him sit in the room with me. Go downstairs and
get rid of those doctors. Then come up yourself, and be prepared to spend
at least three hours here."
I obeyed him. I kept silent as to the fact that Stanley was in the house.
I thought that he was already sufficiently excited. Downstairs I found
that Dr. Kretznow was on the eve of departure. I did not seek to detain
him for a moment. Rust, I think, wondered a little at my apparent lack of
courtesy; but I almost bundled them out of the house.
He offered me his hand as he climbed up into the dog-cart, which I
pretended, however, not to see.
"Mind, I give you very little hope, Mr. Courage," he said. "I studied the
case very seriously in London, and I perceived symptoms which our friend
here has not yet had the opportunity of observing. My own opinion is that
his time is short."
"I am sorry to hear you say so, doctor," I answered; "for I quite believe
that you are in a position to know."
He blinked at me for a moment from behind his thick spectacles, and I
fancied that he was going to say something more. Apparently, however, he
changed his mind, and the carriage drove off. I made my way at once into
the library. Mr. Stanley was still awaiting me.
"My mission," I announced, "has been a failure. He declines even to
discuss the matter."
Mr. Stanley knocked the ash off his cigar and rose to his feet. His face
showed neither disappointment nor surprise.
"The lady, I am afraid," he remarked, "will be sorry."
"It will be a great blow to her," I answered, "if he should die!"
Mr. Stanley shrugged his shoulders.
"He will die, and very soon," he declared. "You and I know that very
well. You are a young man, Mr. Courage," he added very slowly, and with
his eyes fixed intently upon me. "You have a beautiful home and a simple,
useful life--a long one, I trust--before you! Mr. Guest is not by any
means old, but he made enemies! It is never wise to make enemies."
"Is this a warning?" I asked.
"Accept it as one, if a warning is necessary," he answered. "Take my
advice. If Leslie Guest, or the man who is dying upstairs, has a legacy
to leave, let him choose another legatee! There is death in that legacy
for you!"
"Death comes to all of us," I answered. "We must take our risks."
He picked up his hat.
"Number 317, was it not?" he repeated thoughtfully, "an unlucky number
for you, I fear! ... By the bye, Mademoiselle is in the neighborhood."
"What of it?" I asked.
He looked at me long and curiously. Then he sighed and lit still another
of my finest Havanas as he prepared to depart.
"You will be better off," he said, "without that legacy!"