I opened my eyes, and there was Helen smiling at me--not in mediaeval
dress this time, but with a bunch of glowing violets at her belt. How
curious for her to come to the laboratory at night! I looked about:
there was Knowlton sitting near with the cheerfulest of grins on his
face, and Mr. Claybourne too. What was happening? I made an effort, as I
realized I had something of importance to tell Knowlton.
"The Texas formula--" words seemed strangely difficult to say--"Prospero
has it. It's in the blue bottle with the rubber, cork--"
"Hush, dear," I heard Helen say, "you mustn't try to talk just yet," and
she patted my pillow, kissed me, and gave me something cool to drink. I
looked blankly about, but the room was quite dark--I was in bed!
"Isn't this the laboratory?" I asked helplessly. My head ached and
whirled; my thoughts refused to work at this new problem.
"No, dearest," Helen's gentle voice said, "you are at home--with me."
"Home?" I wrestled vaguely with this idea. Where was home?--with me?
"At my house, Ted, dear--here in Deep Harbor," Helen whispered, her lips
brushing my cheek.
"Your knee--you mustn't stand," I faltered, some recollection fighting
through the chaos in my head.
"It's almost well, Ted dear. Watch me walk!" and she took a few steps
away, then back to me.
"But last night--?" I gave it up as Helen put her cool hand over my
month to silence me.
"Well, well," I heard a hearty sounding voice say at the door, "it's
quite seasonable weather for Thanksgiving, isn't it? Snowing like the
deuce--whew! And how's our patient this morning? I'll bet he slept all
right last night after that potion I gave him," and a frock-coated,
checked-waistcoated man walked up to my bed.
"Hello," he said quickly as he looked at me, speaking in a low tone to
Helen. "When did the delirium leave him?"
"He has just waked up," I heard her reply.
"Who are you?" I said, almost aggressively, to the new arrival.
"Who am I? Come, that's a good one," he chuckled, apparently immensely
pleased. "Who am I, Claybourne, eh?"
"Ted, this is Dr. Sinclair, who has been looking after you ever since."
"Ever since what?" I persisted. It was all a most annoying puzzle.
"Helen, can't you explain?--please!" I said petulantly.
"Now then, how's our temperature today?"--and before I could say more
Dr. Sinclair rendered me speechless with a little glass rod in my mouth
that I was mortally afraid of breaking. I lay there, looking first at
him and then at Helen, who smiled encouragement at me; Dr. Sinclair kept
his eyes on a noisy gold watch. Rebellion was gathering headway within:
why was I being treated like a child and put to bed? Some doctor's silly
whim; he probably had made Helen believe I'd been overworking, when
there was the Texas formula to solve. It was preposterous to lose time
this way! What was the matter with Knowlton, that he let them do it?
"Well!" exclaimed the doctor, walking to the window with his thermometer
and letting in the light. I could see snow on the roofs opposite. "We
are almost normal again--not quite, but almost." Helen clapped her hands
and gave a little cry. He shook the thermometer vigorously, put it away
in his coat, put on his glasses, and surveyed me over the tops of them
from the window. "No excitement yet--no worry, remember that, Miss
Helen. Absolute quiet--nature's restorative, you know--that's the word.
Give nature a chance, that's all we need now."
"You don't need to talk about me as if I were a baby," I interjected, my
eyes burning with a strange anger.
"Hush, dear--you trust me, don't you?" I heard Helen say.
"Of course," I said, baffled and abandoning the struggle. It was all
right to leave it in her hands.
"That's one of the symptoms," Dr. Sinclair coughed into the palm of his
hand. I could hear every syllable. "Extreme excitability and irritation;
the least little thing will arouse it. Hence caution, my dear young
lady, caution. Keep on with the jellied boullion--not too much--just a
few, spoonfuls--"
"Damn it, I'm not an invalid!" I tried to shout, but my voice broke, and
only husky, throaty sounds came forth. "I beg your pardon, Mr.
Claybourne--I didn't mean to swear before Helen--but I don't like that
smug, oily, self-satisfied man--" and I pointed my finger at Dr.
Sinclair. The latter took a step or two backward, like a person
retreating from an unpleasant footing.
"Ahem!" coughed Dr. Sinclair. "I think, Miss Helen, it will be wiser to
tell him--you can do it best, without exciting him. Er--I'll look in
again this evening." Mr. Claybourne accompanied him downstairs.
"What are they planning to do with me now?" and I tried to rise up on
one elbow, but found it unaccountably beyond my strength. Helen put one
arm around me.
"You believe in me, don't you, Ted?"
"Yes," and I clutched her hand. "Please keep the others away from me. I
must tell you something--it's important--"
Knowlton arose. "Don't bother about that now, Ted," he said. "I know all
about the Texas formula--it's all right--do you get me?"
"I think I'd go, Mr. Knowlton," Helen said. "Let me tell him all by
myself."
Knowlton bowed and shook her hand. Then he came over to me and offered
his hand to me.
"Ted, I'm not much of a talker; this is just to tell you I'm glad."
I took his hand, since he seemed to wish it, and he left the room. I
looked around at Helen: "Why did you come to me at the laboratory last
night in mediaeval dress when Prospero was trying an incantation?"
Her face clouded, and she hastened to me, laying her cool hand on my
forehead.
"Hush, Teddy, sweetheart," she put her face close to mine. I could feel
that her eyelashes were wet.
"It was the formula--not an incantation," I went on--"it must have been
the signs of the Zodiac that confused me."
"Teddy, do you know me?--it's Helen," she kissed into my ear.
"I know, dear, I know," I said. "I love you, Lady Grey Eyes."
She kissed me on the mouth. "Then listen, Ted, and try not to interrupt.
Just lie quietly here and hold my hand."
"Of course," I promised.
"Prospero was a very wicked man, Ted--"
"He drank and was a drug fiend, but he does know the formula--"
"You promised not to interrupt." Every word of her gentle voice was
soothing; I could feel it steal over me, driving away a great fatigue.
"Quite quiet, Ted?"
"Yes."
"That night at the laboratory he tried to poison you, Ted, with fumes
from a mixture in a dish. You were unconscious when they found you."