With a heart as heavy as lead I made my way down-stairs, and having
chartered a gondola, bade the man take me to the Palace Revecce with all
possible haste. Old Galaghetti, who stood upon the steps, nodded
vehement approval, and rubbed his hands with delight as he thought of
the triumph his great doctor must inevitably achieve. As I left the
hotel I looked back at it with a feeling of genuine sorrow. Only a few
days before our party had all been so happy together, and now one was
stricken down with a mysterious malady that, so far as I could see, was
likely to end in her death. Whether the gondolier had been admonished by
Galaghetti to make haste, and was anxious to do so in sympathy with my
trouble, I cannot say; the fact, however, remains that we accomplished
the distance that separated the hotel from the palace in what could have
been little more than half the time usually taken. My star was still in
the ascendant when we reached the palace, for when I had disembarked at
the steps, the old man who did menial service for Nikola, had just
opened it and looked out. I inquired whether his master was at home,
and, if so, whether I could see him? He evidently realized that my
Italian was of the most rudimentary description, for it was necessary
for me to repeat my question three or four times before he could
comprehend my meaning. When at last he did so, he pointed up the stairs
to signify that Nikola _was_ at home, and also that, if I desired to see
him, I had better go in search of him. I immediately did so, and
hastened up the stairs to the room I have already described, and of
which I entertained such ghastly recollections. I knocked upon the door,
and a well-known voice bade me in English to "come in." I was in too
great a haste to fulfil my mission to observe at the time the
significance these words contained. It was not until afterwards that I
remembered the fact that, as we approached the palace, I had looked up
at Nikola's window and had seen no sign of him there. As I had not rung
the bell, but had been admitted by the old man-servant, how could he
have become aware of my presence? But, as I say, I thought of all that
afterwards. For the moment the only desire I had was to inform Nikola of
my errand.
Upon my entering the room I found Nikola standing before a table on
which were glasses, test-tubes, and various chemical paraphernalia. He
was engaged in pouring some dark-coloured liquid into a graduating
glass, and when he spoke it was without looking round at me.
"I am very glad to see you, my dear Hatteras," he said. "It is kind of
you to take pity on my loneliness. If you don't mind sitting down for a
few moments, and lighting a cigar--you'll find the box on the table--I
shall have finished this, and then we can talk."
"But I am afraid I can't wait," I answered. "I have come on the most
important business. There is not a moment to lose."
"In that case I am to suppose that Miss Trevor is worse," he said,
putting down the bottle from which he had been pouring, and afterwards
replacing the glass stopper with the same hand. "I was afraid it might
be so."
"How do you know that she is ill?" I asked, not a little surprised to
hear that he was aware of our trouble.
"I manage to know a good many things," he replied. "I was aware that she
was ill, and have been wondering how long it would be before I was
called in. The other doctors don't like my interference, I suppose?"
"They certainly do not," I answered. "But they have done no good for
her."
"And you think I may be able to help you?" he inquired, looking at me
over the graduating glass with his strange, dark eyes.
"I certainly do," I replied.
"I am your debtor for the compliment."
"And you will come?"
"You really wish it?"
"I believe it is the only thing that will save her life," I answered.
"But you must come quickly, or it will be too late. She was sinking when
I left the hotel."
With a hand that never shook he poured the contents of the glass into a
small phial, and then placed the latter in his pocket.
"I am at your disposal now," he answered. "We will set off as soon as
you like. As you say, we must lose no time."
"But will it not be necessary for you to take some drugs with you?" I
asked.
"I am taking this one," he replied, placing his hat upon his head as he
spoke.
I remembered that he had been making his prescription up as I entered
the room. Had he then intended calling to see her, even supposing I had
not come to ask his assistance? I had no chance of putting the question
to him, however.
"Have you a gondola below?" he asked, as we went down the stairs.
I replied in the affirmative; and when we gained the hall door we
descended the steps and took our places in it. On reaching the hotel I
conducted him to the drawing-room, where we found the Dean and Glenbarth
eagerly awaiting our coming. I presented the former to Nikola, and then
went off to inform my wife of his arrival. She accompanied me back to
the drawing-room, and when she entered the room Nikola crossed it to
receive her. Though she looked at him in a frightened way I thought his
manner soon put her at her ease.
"Perhaps you will be kind enough to take me to my patient," he said,
when they had greeted each other. "As the case is so serious, I had
better lose no time in seeing her."
He followed my wife from the room, and then we sat down to await his
verdict, with what anxiety you may imagine.
[Illustration: "He laid his hand upon her forehead."]
Of all that transpired during his stay with Miss Trevor I can only speak
from hearsay. My wife, however, was unfortunately too agitated to
remember everything that occurred. She informed me that on entering the
room he advanced very quietly towards the bed, and for a few moments
stood looking down at the frail burden it supported. Then he felt her
pulse, lifted the lids of her eyes, and for a space during which a man
might have counted fifty slowly, laid his hand upon her forehead. Then,
turning to the nurse, who had of course heard of the withdrawal of
the other doctors, he bade her bring him a wine-glass of iced water. She
disappeared, and while she was absent Nikola sat by the bedside holding
the sick girl's hand, and never for a moment taking his eyes from her
face. Presently the woman returned, bringing the water as directed. He
took it from her, and going to the window poured from a phial, which he
had taken from his pocket, some twenty drops of the dark liquid it
contained. Then with a spoon he gave her nearly half of the contents of
the glass. This done he once more seated himself beside the bed, and
waited patiently for the result. Several times within the next half-hour
he bent over the recumbent figure, and was evidently surprised at not
seeing some change which he expected would take place. At the end of
that time he gave her another spoonful of the liquid, and once more sat
down to watch. When an hour had passed he permitted a sigh of
satisfaction to escape him, then, turning to my wife, whose anxiety was
plainly expressed upon her face, he said--
"I think, Lady Hatteras, that you may tell them that she will not die.
There is still much to be done, but I pledge my word that she will
live."
The reaction was too much for my wife; she felt as if she were choking,
then she turned giddy, and at last was possessed with a frantic desire
to cry. Softly leaving the room, she came in search of us. The moment
that she opened the door of the drawing-room, and I looked upon her
face, I knew that there was good news for us.
"What does he say about her?" cried the Duke, forgetting the Dean's
presence, while the latter rose and drew a step nearer, without speaking
a word.
"There is good news," she said, fumbling with her handkerchief in a
suspicious manner. "Doctor Nikola says she will live."
"Thank God," we all said in one breath. And Glenbarth murmured something
more that I did not catch.
So implicit was our belief in Nikola that, as you have doubtless
observed, we accepted his verdict without a second thought. I kissed my
wife, and then shook hands solemnly with the Dean. The Duke had
meanwhile vanished, presumably to his own apartment, where he could
meditate on certain matters undisturbed. After that Phyllis left us and
returned to the sick-room, where she found Nikola still seated beside
the bed, just as she had left him. So far as she could judge, Miss
Trevor did not appear to be any different, though perhaps she did not
breathe as heavily as she had hitherto done. Nikola, however, appeared
to be well satisfied. He nodded approvingly to Phyllis as she entered,
and then returned to his contemplation of his patient once more. In this
fashion hour after hour went by. Once during each my wife would come to
me with reassuring bulletins. "Miss Trevor was, if anything, a little
better, she did not seem so restless as before." "The fever seemed to be
abating;" and then, towards nine o'clock that night, "at last Gertrude
was sleeping peacefully." It was not, however, until nearly midnight
that Nikola himself made his appearance.
"The worst is over," he said, approaching the Dean; "your daughter is
now asleep, and will only require watching for the next two hours. At
the end of that time I shall return, and shall hope to find a decided
improvement in her condition."
"I can never thank you enough, my dear sir," said the worthy old
clergyman, shaking the other by the hand while the tears ran down his
wrinkled cheeks. "But for your wonderful skill there can be no sort of
doubt that she would be lost to us now. She is my only child, my ewe
lamb, and may Heaven bless you for your goodness to me."
I thought that Nikola looked at him rather curiously as he said this. It
was the first time I had seen Nikola brought into the society of a
dignitary of the English Church, and I was anxious to see how the pair
comported themselves under the circumstances. A couple more
diametrically opposite could be scarcely imagined. They were as oil and
water, and could scarcely be expected to assimilate.
"Sir, I should have been less than human if I had not done everything
possible to save that beautiful young life," said Nikola, with what was
to me the suggestion of a double meaning in his speech. "And now you
must permit me to bid you good-bye for the present. In two hours I shall
return again."
Thinking he might prefer to remain near his patient, I pressed him to
stay at the hotel, offering to do all that lay in my power to make him
comfortable. But he would not hear of such a thing.
"As you should be aware by this time, I never rest away from my own
house," he answered, in a tone that settled the matter once and for all.
"If anything should occur in the meantime, send for me and I will come
at once. I do not apprehend any change, however."
When he had gone I went in search of the Duke and found him in his own
room.
"Dick," he said, "look at me and tell me if you can see any difference.
I feel as though I had passed through years of suffering. Another week
would have made an old man of me. How is she now?"
"Progressing famously," I answered. "You need not look so sceptical, for
this must surely be the case, since Nikola has gone home to take some
rest and will not return for two hours."
He wrung my hand on hearing this.
"How little I dreamt," he said, "when we were confined in that wretched
room in Port Said, and when he played that trick upon me in Sydney, that
some day he was destined to do me the greatest service any man has ever
done me in my life. Didn't I tell you that those other medicos did not
know what they were doing, and that Nikola is the greatest doctor in the
world?"
I admitted that he had given me the first assurance, but I was not quite
so certain about the latter. Then, realizing how he must be feeling, I
proposed that we should row down the canal for a breath of fresh sea
air. At first the Duke was for refusing the invitation, eventually
however he assented, and when we had induced the Dean to accompany us we
set off. When we reached the hotel once more it was to discover that
Nikola had returned, and that he had again taken up his watch in the
sick-room. He remained there all night, passing hour after hour at the
bedside, without, so my wife asserted, moving, save to give the
medicine, and without apparently feeling the least fatigue.
It was not until between seven and eight o'clock next morning that I
caught a glimpse of him. He was in the dining-room then, partaking of a
small cup of black coffee, into which he had poured some curious
decoction of his own. For my part I have never yet been able to discover
how Nikola managed to keep body and soul together on his frugal fare.
"How is the patient this morning?" I asked, when we had greeted each
other.
"Out of danger," he replied, slowly stirring his coffee as he spoke.
"She will continue to progress now. I hope you are satisfied that I have
done all I can in her interests?"
"I am more than satisfied," I answered. "I am deeply grateful. As her
father said yesterday, if it had not been for you, Nikola, she must
inevitably have succumbed. She will have cause to bless your name for
the remainder of her existence."
He looked at me very curiously as I said this.
"Do you think she will do that?" he asked, with unusual emphasis. "Do
you think it will please her to remember that she owes her life to
_me_?"
"I am sure she will always be deeply grateful," I replied, somewhat
ambiguously. "I fancy you know that yourself."
"And your wife? What does she say?"
"She thinks you are certainly the greatest of all doctors," I answered,
with a laugh. "I feel that I ought to be jealous, but strangely enough
I'm not."
"And yet I have done nothing so very wonderful," he continued, almost as
if he were talking to himself. "But that those other blind worms are
content to go on digging in their mud, when they should be seeking the
light in another direction, they could do as much as I have done. By the
way, have you seen our friend, Don Martinos, since you dined together at
my house?"
I replied to the effect that I had not done so, but reported that the
Don had sent repeated messages of sympathy to us during Miss Trevor's
illness. I then inquired whether Nikola had seen him?
"I saw him yesterday morning," he replied. "We devoted upwards of four
hours to exploring the city together."
I could not help wondering how the Don had enjoyed the excursion, but,
needless to remark, I did not say anything on this score to my
companion.
That night Nikola was again in attendance upon his patient. Next day
she was decidedly better; she recognized her father and my wife, and
every hour was becoming more and more like her former self.
"Was she surprised when she regained consciousness to find Nikola at her
bedside?" I inquired of Phyllis when the great news was reported to me.
"Strangely enough she was not," Phyllis replied. "I fully expected,
remembering my previous suspicions, that it would have a bad effect upon
her, but it did nothing of the kind. It was just as if she had expected
to find him there."
"And what were his first words to her?"
"'I hope you are feeling better, Miss Trevor,' he said, and she replied,
'Much better,' that was all. It was as commonplace as could be."
Next day Nikola only looked in twice, the day after once, and at the end
of the week informed me that she stood in no further need of his
attention.
"How shall we ever be able to reward you, Nikola?" I asked, for about
the hundredth time, as we stood together in the corridor outside the
sick-room.
"I have no desire to be rewarded," he answered. "It is enough for me to
see Miss Trevor restored to health. Endeavour, if you can, to recall a
certain conversation we had together respecting the lady in question on
the evening that I narrated to you the story concerning the boy, who was
so badly treated by the Spanish Governor. Did I not tell you then that
our Destinies were inextricably woven together? I informed you that it
had been revealed to me many years ago that we should meet; should you
feel surprised, therefore, if I told you that I had also been warned of
this illness?"
Once more I found myself staring at him in amazement.
"You are surprised? Believe me, however astonishing it may seem, it is
quite true. I knew that Miss Trevor would come into my life; I knew also
that it would be my lot to save her from death. What is more, I know
that in the end the one thing, which has seemed to me most desirable in
life, will be taken from me by her hands."
"I am afraid I cannot follow you," I said.
"Perhaps not, but you will be able to some day," he answered. "That
moment has not yet arrived. In the meantime watch and wait, for before
we know it it will be upon us."
Then, with a look that was destined to haunt me for many a long day, he
bade me farewell, and left the hotel.