"In a cab. You don't s'pose I carried 'im, d'you?"
"Where'd you find him?"
"I didn't find 'im. Some one gave 'im to me as a present--a nice
present, I must say."
"Don't lie to me!" cried Graham. "And don't be impudent."
"Impudent!" cried Nellie Pope, shrilly. "Here, you'd better watch what
you're saying. I don't stand any cheek, I don't, neither from you nor
anybody else, and I'm not in the habit of lying. I tell you I was made a
present of 'im. I was told to take 'im 'ome by a young fellow on
Forty-eighth Street, who 'ad called up a cab."
"Forty-eighth Street,--are you sure?"
"Well, if I don't know the streets, who does? The young fellow was a
gent. He didn't talk, he gave orders. He was tall and slight and he 'ad
kinky hair. Quite a nut. English, he was, any one could tell that."
"Good God!" thought Graham--"Kenyon." He sat down on the bed as though
he had received a blow in the middle of his back. Only an hour before he
had telephoned to Kenyon to say good-bye and wish him a pleasant
crossing, and all that he said about Peter was that they had seen each
other the night before. "No doubt he's all right," he had said, in
answer to Graham's anxious question. What did it all mean? What foul
thing had Kenyon done?
Graham had been up all night waiting for his brother. He had good news
for him. He had pulled himself together and gone to see Ranken Townsend
during the time that Peter had been walking the streets. To the artist
he had made a clean breast of everything, so that he might, once for
all, set Peter right in the eyes of his future father-in-law. That was
the least that he could do. He had carried away from the studio in his
pocket a short, generous and impulsive letter from the artist, asking
Peter's forgiveness for not having accepted his word of honor. Armed
with this, Graham had waited while hour after hour slipped by, growing
more and more anxious as Peter did not appear. At breakfast he told his
mother--in case she should discover that Peter had not returned--that he
had stayed the night in Kenyon's rooms, as they had much to talk about
and one or two things to arrange. He had been in the house when Kenyon
had rung up, apologizing for being unable to come round, and thanking
Mrs. Guthrie for her kindness and hospitality.
And there lay Peter inanimate and stupefied. In the name of all that was
horrible, what had happened? Graham got up and faced the girl again.
"You mustn't mind my being abrupt and rude," he said. "I'm awfully
sorry. But this is my brother, my best pal, and I've been terribly
anxious about him, and you don't know--nobody knows--what it means to me
to see him like this."
"Ah! Now you're talking," said Nellie Pope. "Treat me nicely and there's
nothing I won't do for you. If you ask me--and if I don't know a bit
more about life than you do I ought to--I have a shrewd idea that your
brother was made drunk,--that is, _doped_. 'E was quite gone when 'e was
put into the cab, and from the way that kinky-headed chap laughed as we
drove off together,--I mean me and your brother,--I should think that 'e
'ad it in for him, but of course I don't know hanything about that.
Perhaps you do."
Graham shook his head. "No," he said; "I don't know anything about it
either. But what are we going to do with him, that's the point? He's
ill, that's obvious, and a doctor ought to see him at once."
"That's what I think," said the girl, "and I don't think 'e ought to be
moved, 'e's so frightfully 'ot. 'E might catch pneumonia, or something.
What I think you'd better do is to call up a doctor at once, get him to
give your brother a dose and give me directions as to what to do. 'E
can stay 'ere until 'e's all right again, and I'll nurse 'im."
"Yes, but why should you----?"
"Oh, bless you, that's all right. I'm glad to have something to do. Time
hangs heavy. Besides, the poor boy is just like a baby. I like 'im and
you needn't be afraid that I shall try to get anything out of 'im,
because I shan't."
Graham snatched eagerly at the proffered assistance. He was intensely
grateful. "Have you a telephone here?" he asked.
Nellie Pope laughed. "What d'you take me for?" she said. "I'm not a
chorus lady. When I want to use the 'phone I pop round to the drug store
and have a nickel's worth. That's how I got on to you."
Graham caught up his hat and left the apartment quickly. One of his
college friends was a doctor and had just started to practice. He would
ask him to come and see Peter. He agreed with the girl that it would be
running a great risk to move Peter, and he was all against taking him
home in his present condition. It would only lead to more lies and would
certainly throw his mother into a dreadful state of anxiety.
While he was gone, Nellie Pope set to work to tidy up the bedroom. She
put her boots away in a closet, got out a clean bedspread, rubbed the
powder off her mirror and arranged her dressing-table. This doctor,
whoever he was, should find her apartment as tidy as she could make it.
It was a matter of pride with her. She still had some of that left. One
thing, however, she was determined about. The doctor must not be
allowed to look too closely at her.