WHILE WE WAITED
When Sir Beverley Drake undertakes a case, he puts his whole soul into
it, and no sacrifice of time or trouble is too much. I loved the dear
man when he quietly announced that he would live at Ralston Old Manor,
coming in the day before the transfusion, and remaining till what he
called the "end of the treatment, first phase."
This meant that he would be on the spot for a month. By that time he
could be practically certain whether or not the serum had "gripped" the
disease, and would at last conquer it. If "success" were the verdict,
Sir Beverley would instruct another doctor how to continue the
hypodermics and other treatment, and observe results.
"Selfishly, I should have liked to put the patient into a nursing home
at Exeter," he said, "where I could stay at home and visit him once a
day. But I didn't feel that would be giving the man his best chance.
He's in love with his wife, and in love with his house. I wouldn't
separate him from either."
This was splendid of Sir Beverley, and splendid for Murray--except for
one possibility which I foresaw. What if Rosemary or Murray himself
should suggest Paul Jennings as the doctor understudy? I was afraid that
this might happen, both because Jennings lived so near the Manor, and
because of the friendship which Rosemary had oddly struck up with the
French wife.
I dared not prejudice Sir Beverley against Murray's distant cousin, for
I'd _heard_ nothing to Paul's disadvantage--rather the contrary. He was
said to be a smart doctor, up to date in his methods, and "sure to get
on." Still, I thought of the changed portraits, and tried to put the
microbe of an idea into Sir Beverley's head. I told him that, if it
hadn't been for Ralston Murray, Jennings would without much doubt have
inherited the Manor, with a large sum of money.
The specialist's quick brain caught what was in mine as if I'd tossed it
to him, like a ball. "I suppose, if Murray died now, Jennings could hope
for nothing," he said, "except perhaps a small legacy. Murray will have
made a will in his wife's favour?"
"Yes," I replied, "or he made a will when he was engaged to her, and has
added a codicil since. But it's unusual in some ways, and might be
disputed."
Sir Beverley smiled. "Well, don't worry," he reassured me. "I have my
own candidate to take over the job when I leave the Manor. I wouldn't
trust a stranger, no matter how good a doctor he might be. So that's
that."
It was! I felt satisfied; and also more than satisfied with Rosemary. I
went to see her the day before the transfusion experiment, and found her
radiant in a strange, spiritual way. It seemed to me more like
exaltation than any earthly sort of happiness; and her words proved that
my feeling about it was right.
"Whether Ralston lives or dies, I shall always be so thankful that I
could do this thing for him. I don't think it's a _big_ thing, though he
does, and it was hard to persuade him. But to do it gives me the most
divine joy, which I can't describe. If I'd been born for that and
nothing else, it would be enough."
"How you love him!" The words broke from me.
"I do love him," she answered in a low voice, as if she spoke more to
herself than me. "Whatever may happen, I have loved him, and always will
in this world and the next."
"Aren't you frightened?" I asked.
"Frightened?" she echoed. "Oh, _no_!"
And quite a new sort of respect for her grew up within me--respect for
her physical courage. She was such a tall lily-in-silver-moonlight
creature, and so sensitive, that one could not have been disgusted with
her, as one can with some women, for cowardice; but she was brave in her
love. When she said that she was not frightened, I knew she wasn't
trying to make herself think so. She had no fear at all. She was eager
for the moment when she could make the gift.
Jim and I were allowed to be in the house when the experiment was tried,
not with the hope of seeing Murray or Rosemary afterward, but in order
to know the result without waiting.
We sat in the library, and were presently joined by Paul Jennings and
Gaby. They had grown so fond of "the hero and heroine of this romance"
(as Gaby put it) that they hadn't been able to keep away.
Jennings explained to us in detail the whole process of transfusion, and
why it was more effectual in a case like Murray's than the saline
injections given by some modern men. I felt rather faint as I listened,
seeing as if in a picture what those two devoted ones were going
through. But I knew that they were in the hands of a master, and that
the assistant and nurses he had brought would be the most efficient of
their kind.
"Would you do for me what your friend is doing for her husband?" Paul
Jennings suddenly flung the question at his wife. And she answered him,
not in words, but with a smile. I couldn't read what that smile meant,
and I wondered if he could.
Jim would not have needed to _ask_ me a thing like that!
After what seemed a long time of suspense Sir Beverley came to tell us
the news--looking like a strong-faced, middle-aged pierrot in his
surgeon's "make-up."
"All's well," he said. "They've both stood it grandly; and now they're
asleep. I thought you'd like to hear it from me, myself."
Then he looked from us to the Jenningses, whom he had never seen before.
I introduced them, and for the first time I became aware of what Gaby
Lorraine could be when she wished intensely to charm a man. She radiated
some subtle attraction of sex--deliberately radiated it, and without one
spoken word. She hadn't tried that "stunt" on my Jim, and if she had on
Ralston Murray I hadn't been there to see. There was something she
wanted to get out of Sir Beverley!