Isaacson glanced at Doctor Hartley before he followed her.
"I--doesn't she look strange? Did you ever see such an alteration?"
almost whispered the young man.
Isaacson did not answer, but stepped into the passage.
Mrs. Armine was a little way down it, walking on rather quickly.
Suddenly she looked round. Light shone upon her from above, and showed
her tense and worn face, her features oddly sharpened and pointed,
wrinkles clustering about the corners of her eyes. She seemed, under the
low roof, unnaturally tall in her flowing grey robe, and this evening in
her height there seemed to Isaacson to be something forbidding and
almost dreadful. She held up one hand, as if warning the two men to
pause for a moment. Then she went on, and disappeared through the
doorway that faced them beyond the two rows of bedrooms.
"We are to wait, it seems," Isaacson said, stopping in the passage. "The
patient is up then?"
"He wasn't when I left," murmured Hartley.
"Did you say whether he was to be kept in bed?"
"Oh, no. I don't know that there was any reason against his getting up,
except his weakness. He has never taken to his bed."
"No?"
Mrs. Armine reappeared, and beckoned to them to come on. They obeyed
her, and came into the farther saloon. As soon as Isaacson passed
through the doorway, he saw Nigel sitting up on the divan, with cushions
behind him, near the left-hand doorway which gave on to the balcony. He
had a hat on, as if he had just been out there, and a newspaper on his
knees. The saloon was not well lit. Only one electric burner covered
with a shade was turned on. With the aid of the cushions he was sitting
up very straight, as if he had just made a strong effort and succeeded
in bracing up his body. Mrs. Armine stood close to him. His eyes were
turned towards the two doctors, and as Isaacson came up to him, he said
in a colourless voice, which yet held a faintly querulous sound:
"So you've come up again, Isaacson!"
"Yes."
"Very good of you. But I don't know why there should be all this fuss
made about me. It's rather trying, you know. I believe it keeps me
back."
Already Isaacson knew just what he had to face, what he had to contend
with.
"I hate a fuss made about me," Nigel continued, "simply hate it. You
must know that."
Isaacson, who had come up to him, extended his hand in greeting. But
Nigel, whether he felt too weak to stretch out his hand, or for some
other reason, did not appear to see it, and Isaacson at once dropped his
hand, while he said:
"I don't think there is any reason to make a fuss. But, being so near, I
just rowed up to see how you were getting on after your sleep."
"I didn't sleep at night," Nigel said quickly. "What you gave me did me
no good at all."
"I'm sorry for that."
Nigel still sat up against the cushions, but his body now inclined
slightly to the left side, where Mrs. Armine was standing, looking down
on him with quiet solicitude.
"I had a very bad night--very bad."
"Then I'm afraid--"
"Doctor Hartley rowed down to fetch you here, I understood," Nigel
interrupted.
There was suspicion in his voice.
"Yes," said Hartley, speaking for the first time, nervously. "I--I
thought to myself, 'Two heads are better than one.'"
He forced a sort of laugh. Nigel twitched on the divan like a man
supremely irritated, then looked from one doctor to the other with eyes
that included them both in his irritation.
"Two heads--what for?" he said. "What d'you mean?"
He sighed heavily as he finished the question. Then, without waiting for
an answer, he said to his wife:
"If only I could have a little peace!"
There was a frightful weariness in his voice, a sound that made Isaacson
think of a cruelly treated child's voice. Mrs. Armine bent down and
touched his hand as it lay on the newspaper which was still across his
knees. She smiled at him.
"A little patience!" she murmured.
She raised her eyebrows.
"Yes, it's all very well, Ruby, but--" He looked again at Isaacson, with
a distinct though not forcible hostility. "I know you want to doctor me,
Isaacson," he said. "And she asked me to-night to see you. Last night it
was different, but to-night I don't want doctoring. Frankly"--he sighed
again heavily--"I only see any one to-night to please her. All I want is
quiet. We came here for quiet. But we don't seem to get it."
He turned again to his wife.
"Even you are getting worn out. I can see that," he said.
Mrs. Armine's forehead sharply contracted. "Oh, I'm all right, Nigel,"
she said, quickly. She laughed. "I'm not going to let them begin
doctoring me," she said.
"She's nursed me like a slave," Nigel continued, looking at the two men,
and speaking as if for a defence. "There has never been such devotion.
And I wish every one could know it." Tears suddenly started into his
eyes. "But the best things and the best people in the world are not
believed in, are never believed in," he murmured.
"Never mind, Nigel dear," she said, soothingly. "It's all right."
Isaacson, who with Hartley had been standing all this time because Mrs.
Armine was standing, now sat down beside the sick man.
"I think true devotion will always find its reward," he said, quietly,
steadily. "We only want to do you good, to get you quickly into your old
splendid health."
"That's very good of you, of course. But you didn't do me good last
night. It was the worst night I ever had."
Isaacson remembered the sound he had heard when the Nubians lay on their
oars on the dark river.
"Let us try to do you good to-night. Won't you?" he said.
"All I want is rest. I've told her so. And I tell you so."
"Shall I stay on board to-night and see you to-morrow morning when you
have had a night's rest?"
Nigel looked up at his wife.
"Aren't you quite near?" he asked Isaacson, in a moment.
"I'm not very far away, but--"
"Then I don't think we need bother you to stay. We've got Doctor
Hartley."
"I--I'm afraid I shall have to leave you to-morrow," said the young man,
who had several times looked, almost with a sort of horror, at Mrs.
Armine's ravaged face. "You see I'm with people at Assouan. I really
came out to Egypt in a sort of way in attendance upon Mrs. Craven
Bagley, who is in delicate health. And though she's much stronger--"
"Yes, yes!" Nigel interrupted. "Of course, go--go! I want peace, I want
rest."
He drooped towards his wife. Suddenly she sat down beside him, holding
his hand.
"Would you rather not be examined to-night?" she asked him.
"Examined!" he said, in a startled voice.
"Well, dearest, these doctors--"
Nigel, with a great effort, sat up as before.
"I won't be bothered to-night," he said, with the weak anger
of an utterly worn-out man. "I--I can't stand anything more.
I--can't--stand--" His voice died away.
"We'd better go," whispered Hartley. "To-morrow morning."
He looked at Mrs. Armine, and moved towards the door. Isaacson got up.
"We will leave the patient to-night," he said to Mrs. Armine, in an
expressionless voice.
"Yes?"
"But may I have a word with you, please, in the other room?"
Then he followed Hartley.
He caught him up in the passage.
"It's absolutely no use to-night," said Hartley. "Any examination would
only make matters worse. He's not in a fit state mentally to go through
it so late."
[Illustration]
"I think it will be best to wait till to-morrow."
"And then, directly after the consultation is over, I must really get
away. That is, if you are willing to--"
"You may leave everything in my hands."
"She hates me now!" the young man said, almost plaintively. "Did you
ever see such a change?"
"I'm going to speak with her in the first saloon, so I'll leave you,"
said Isaacson.
Hartley had his hand on one of the cabin doors.
"Then I'll go in here. I sleep here."
"Good night," Isaacson said.
"Oh! you won't want me again?"
"Not to-night."
"Good night then."
He opened the cabin door and disappeared within, while Isaacson walked
on to the first saloon.
He had to wait in it for nearly ten minutes before he heard Mrs. Armine
coming. But he would not have minded much waiting an hour. He felt
within him the determination of an iron will now completely assured. And
strength can wait.
Mrs. Armine came in and shut the door gently behind her.
"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "I was taking my husband to
his cabin. He's going to bed. Where is Doctor Hartley?"
"He's gone to his cabin."
Something in Isaacson's tone seemed suddenly to strike her, and she sent
him a look of sharp enquiry.
"Will you sit down for a minute?" he said.
She sat down at once, still keeping her eyes fixed upon him. He sat down
near her.
"Doctor Hartley is going away to-morrow morning," Isaacson said.
"He promised to stay several days with us to preside over my husband's
convalescence."
"He's going away, and there's no question of convalescence."
"I don't understand you!"
"I'll make myself plain. Your husband is not a convalescent. Your
husband is a very sick man."
"No wonder, when he's worried to death, when he's allowed no peace day
or night, when he's given one thing on the top of another!"
"May I ask what you mean by that?"
"Didn't you come in last night, and force a sleeping draught upon him?"
"I certainly gave him something to make him sleep."
"And it didn't make him sleep."
"Because before it had had time to take effect he received a great
shock," Isaacson said, quietly.
She moved.
"A great shock?"
She stared at him.
"At night, upon water, sound travels a very long way. Have you never
noticed that?" he asked her.
Still she stared, and as he looked at her it seemed to him that the bony
structure of her face became more salient.
"Last night," he said, as she did not speak, "I thought I heard
something strange. I made my men stop rowing for a minute, and I
listened. I am not surprised that the sleeping draught I gave your
husband had no effect. Under the circumstances it probably even did him
harm. But no doctor could have foreseen that."
She moved restlessly. Isaacson got up and stood before her.
"I'm going to speak plainly," he said. "Some time ago, in my
consulting-room in London, you told me a good deal of the truth of
yourself."
"You think--"
"I know. You told me then that your whole desire was to have a good
time. How long are you going to put up with your present life?"
"Put up! You don't understand. Nigel has been very good to me, and I am
very happy with him."
"If he's been good to you, don't you wish him to get well?"
"Of course I do. I've been waiting upon him hand and foot."
"And not even a maid to help you--although she did ring last night for
Hamza, when we were here."
She looked down, and picked at the dim embroideries that covered the
divan.
"I've nursed him till I've nearly made myself ill," she said,
mechanically.
"I'm going to relieve you of that task."
She turned her face up towards him.
"No, you aren't!" she said. "I'm Nigel's wife, and that is my natural
duty."
"Nevertheless, I'm going to relieve you of it."
The rock-like firmness of his tone evidently made upon her an immense
impression.
"From to-night I take charge of this case."
Mrs. Armine stood up. She was taller than Isaacson, and now she stood
looking down upon him.
"Nigel won't have you!" she said.
"He must."
"He won't--unless I wish it."
"You will never wish it."
"No."
"But you will pretend to wish it."