"Let me get out of this house," cried the Duke thickly. "I cannot breathe while I am in it. Take me away, Hatteras; for God's sake take me away!"
I had already risen to my feet and had hastened to his side.
"I think it would be better that we should be going, Doctor Nikola," I said, turning to our host.
The Spaniard, on his side, did not utter a word. He was so dazed as to be beyond the power of speech. But Nikola did not seem to comprehend what I said. Never before had I seen such a look upon his face. His complexion was always white, now, however, it was scarcely human. For my own part I knew what was passing in his mind, but I could give no utterance to it.
"Come," I said to my companions, "let us return to our hotel."
They rose and began to move mechanically towards the door. The Duke had scarcely reached it, however, before Nikola, with what I could see was a violent effort, recovered his self-possession.
"You must forgive me," he said in almost his usual voice. "I had for the moment forgotten my duties as host. I fear you have had but a poor evening."
When we had donned our hats and cloaks, we accompanied him down-stairs through the house, which was now as silent as the grave, to the great doors upon the steps. Having hailed a gondola we entered it, after wishing Nikola "good-night." He shook hands with Glenbarth and myself, but I noticed that he did not offer to do so with the Don. Then we shot out into the middle of the canal and had presently turned the corner and were making our way towards our hotel. I am perfectly certain that during the journey not one of us spoke. The events of the evening had proved too much for us, and conversation was impossible. We bade Martinos "good-night" in the hall, and then the Duke and I ascended to our own apartments. Spirits had been placed upon the table, and I noticed that the Duke helped himself to almost twice his usual quantity. He looked as if he needed it.
"My God, Dick," he said, "did you see what happened in that room? Did you see that woman kneeling with the – "
He put down his glass hurriedly and walked to the window. I could sympathize with him, for had I not seen the same thing myself?
"It's certain, Dick," he said, when he returned a few moments later, "that, were I to see much more of Nikola in that house, I should go mad. But why did he let me see it? Why? Why? For Heaven's sake answer me."
How could I tell him the thought that was in my own mind? How could I reveal to him the awful fear that was slowly but surely taking possession of me? Why had Nikola invited the Don to his house? Why had he shown him the picture of that terrible crime? Like Glenbarth I could only ask the same question – Why? Why? Why?
CHAPTER VIII
Before Glenbarth and I parted on the terrible evening described in the previous chapter, we had made a contract with each other to say nothing about what we had seen to the ladies. For this reason, when my wife endeavoured to interrogate me concerning our entertainment, I furnished her with an elaborate description of the dinner itself; spoke of the marvellous cooking, and I hope gave her a fairly accurate account of the menu, or rather so much of it as I could remember.
"I suppose I must confess to defeat then," she said, when I had exhausted my powers of narration. "I had a settled conviction that something out of the common would have occurred. You seem simply to have had a good dinner, to have smoked some excellent cigars, and the rest to have been bounded merely by the commonplace. For once I fear Doctor Nikola has not acted up to his reputation."
If she had known the truth, I wonder what she would have said? Long after she had bade me good-night I lay awake ruminating on the different events of the evening. The memory of what I had seen in that awful room was still as fresh with me as if I were still watching it. And yet, I asked myself, why should I worry so much about it? Nikola had willed that his audience should see certain things. We had done so. It was no more concerned with the supernatural than I was myself. Any man who had the power could have impressed us in the same way. But though I told myself all this, I must confess that I was by no means convinced. I knew in my heart that the whole thing had been too real to be merely a matter of make-believe. No human brain could have invented the ghastly horrors of that room in such complete detail. Even to think of it now, is to bring the scene almost too vividly before me; and when I lay awake at night I seem to hear the shrieks of the wretched woman, and the moans of the man perishing in the vaults below.
On my retiring to rest my wife had informed me that she fancied Miss Trevor had been slightly better that evening. She had slept peacefully for upwards of an hour, and seemed much refreshed by it.
"Her maid is going to spend the night in her room," said Phyllis; "I have told her that, if she sees any change in Gertrude's condition, she is to let me know at once. I do hope that she may be herself again to-morrow."
This, however, was unhappily not destined to be the case; for a little before three o'clock, there was a tapping upon our bedroom door. Guessing who it would be, my wife went to it, and, having opened it a little, was informed that Miss Trevor was worse.
"I must go to her at once," said Phyllis, and, having clothed herself warmly, for the night was cold, she departed to our guest's room.
"I am really afraid that there is something very serious the matter with her," she said, when she returned after about a quarter of an hour's absence. "She is in a high state of fever, and is inclined to be delirious. Don't you think we had better send for the doctor?"
"I will have a messenger despatched to him at once if you think it necessary," I returned. "Poor girl, I wonder what on earth it can be?"
"Perhaps the doctor will be able to tell us now," said my wife. "The symptoms are more fully developed, and he should surely be able to make his diagnosis. But I must not stay here talking. I must go back to her."
When she had departed, I dressed myself and went down to the hall in search of the night watchman. He undertook to find a messenger to go and fetch the doctor, and, when I had seen him despatched on his errand, I returned to the drawing-room, switched on the electric light, and tried to interest myself in a book until the medico should arrive. I was not very successful, however, for interesting though I was given to understand the book was, I found my thoughts continually leaving it and returning to the house in the Rio del Consiglio. I wondered what Nikola was doing at that moment, and fancied I could picture him still at work, late though the hour was. At last, tiring of the book and wanting something else to occupy my thoughts, I went to the window and drew back the shutters. It was a beautiful morning, and the myriad stars overhead were reflected in the black waters of the canal like the lamps of a large town. Not a sound was to be heard; it might have been a City of the Dead, so still was it. As I stood looking across the water, I thought of the city's past history, of her ancient grandeur, of her wondrous art, and of the great men who had been her children. There was a tremendous lesson to be learnt from her Fall if one could only master it. I was interrupted in my reverie by the entrance of the doctor, whom I had told the night watchman to conduct to my presence immediately upon his arrival.
"I am sorry to bring you out at this time of the night, doctor," I said; "but the fact is, Miss Trevor is much worse. My wife spent the greater part of the evening with her, and informed me on my return from a dinner that she was better. Three-quarters of an hour ago, however, her maid, who had been sleeping in her room, came to us with the news that a change for the worse had set in. This being the case, I thought it better to send for you at once."
"You did quite right, my dear sir, quite right," the medico replied. "There is nothing like promptness in these matters. Perhaps I had better see her without further delay."
With that I conducted him to the door of Miss Trevor's room. He knocked upon it, was admitted by my wife, and then disappeared from my gaze. Something like half-an-hour elapsed before he returned to me in the drawing-room. When he did so his face looked grave and troubled.
"What do you think of her condition now, doctor?" I asked.
"She is certainly in a state of high fever," he answered. "Her pulse is very high, and she is inclined to be delirious. At the same time I am bound to confess to you that I am at a loss to understand the reason of it. The case puzzled me considerably yesterday, but I am even more puzzled by it now. There are various symptoms that I can neither account for nor explain. One thing, however, is quite certain – the young lady must have a trained nurse, and, with your permission, I will see that one comes in after breakfast. Lady Hatteras is not strong enough for the task."
"I am quite with you there," I answered. "And I am vastly obliged to you for putting your foot down. At the same time, will you tell me whether you deem it necessary for me to summon her father from England?"
"So far as I can see at present, I do not think there is any immediate need," he replied. "Should I see any reason for so doing, I would at once tell you. I have given a prescription to Lady Hatteras, and furnished her with the name of a reliable chemist. I shall return between nine and ten o'clock, and shall hope to have better news for you then."
"I sincerely trust you may," I said. "As you may suppose, her illness has been a great shock to us."
I then escorted him down-stairs and afterwards returned to my bedroom. The news which he had given me of Miss Trevor's condition was most distressing, and made me feel more anxious than I cared to admit. At seven o'clock I saw my wife for a few minutes, but, as before, she had no good news to give me.
"She is quite delirious now," she said, "and talks continually of some great trouble which she fears is going to befall her; implores me to help her to escape from it, but will not say definitely what it is. It goes to my heart to hear her, and to know that I cannot comfort her."
"You must be careful what you are doing," I replied. "The doctor has promised to bring a trained nurse with him after breakfast, who will relieve you of the responsibility. I inquired whether he thought we had better send for her father, and it is in a way encouraging to know that, so far, he does not think there is any necessity for such an extreme step. In the meantime, however, I think I will write to the Dean and tell him how matters stand. It will prepare him, but I am afraid it will give the poor old gentleman a sad fright."
"It could not give him a greater fright than it has done us," said Phyllis. "I do not know why I should do so, but I cannot help thinking that I am to blame in some way."
"What nonsense, my dear girl," I replied. "I am sure you have nothing whatsoever to reproach yourself with. Far from it. You must not worry yourself about it, or we shall be having you upon our hands before long. You must remember that you are yourself far from strong."
"I am quite myself again now," she answered. "It is only on account of your anxiety that I treat myself as an invalid." Then she added, "I wonder what the Duke will say when he hears the news?"
"He was very nearly off his head yesterday," I answered. "He will be neither to hold nor to bind to-day."
She was silent for a few moments, then she said thoughtfully —
"Do you know, Dick, it may seem strange to you, but I do not mind saying that I attribute all this trouble to Nikola."
"Good gracious," I cried, in well-simulated amazement, "why on earth to Nikola?"
"Because, as was the case five years ago, it has been all trouble since we met him. You remember how he affected Gertrude at the outset. She was far from being herself on the night of our tour through the city, and now in her delirium she talks continually of his dreadful house, and from what she says, and the way she behaves, I cannot help feeling inclined to believe that she imagines herself to be seeing some of the dreadful events which have occurred or are occurring in it."
"God help her," I said to myself. And then I continued aloud to my wife, "Doubtless Nikola's extraordinary personality has affected her in some measure, as it does other people, but you are surely not going to jump to the conclusion that because she has spoken to him he is necessarily responsible for her illness? That would be the wildest flight of fancy."
"And yet, do you know," she continued, "I have made a curious discovery."
"What is that?" I asked, not without some asperity, for, having so much on my mind, I was not in the humour for fresh discoveries.
She paused for a moment before she replied. Doubtless she expected that I would receive it with scepticism, if not with laughter; and Phyllis, ever since I have known her, has a distinct fear of ridicule.
"You may laugh at me if you please," she said, "yet the coincidence is too extraordinary to be left unnoticed. Do you happen to be aware, Dick, that Doctor Nikola called at this hotel at exactly eleven o'clock?"
I almost betrayed myself in my surprise. This was the last question I expected her to put to me.
"Yes," I answered, with an endeavour to appear calm, "I do happen to be aware of that fact. He merely paid a visit of courtesy to the Don, prior to the other's accepting his hospitality. I see nothing remarkable in that. I did the same myself, if you remember."
"Of course I know that," she replied, "but there is more to come. Are you also aware that it was at the very moment of his arrival in the house that Gertrude was taken ill? What do you think of that?"
She put this question to me with an air of triumph, as if it were one that no argument on my part could refute. At any rate, I did not attempt the task.
"I think nothing of it," I replied. "You may remember that you once fell down in a dead faint within a few minutes of the vicar's arrival at our house at home. Would you therefore have me suppose that it was on account of his arrival that you were taken ill? Why should you attribute Miss Trevor's illness to Nikola's courtesy to our friend the Don?"
"I beg that you will not call him our friend," said Phyllis with considerable dignity. "I do not like the man."
I did not tell her that the Duke was equally outspoken concerning our companion. I could see that they would put their heads together, and that trouble would be the inevitable result. Like a wise husband I held my peace, knowing that whatever I might say would not better the situation.
Half-an-hour later it was my unhappy lot to have to inform Glenbarth of Miss Trevor's condition.
"I told you yesterday that it was a matter not to be trifled with," he said, as if I were personally responsible for her grave condition. "The doctor evidently doesn't understand the case, and what you ought to do, if you have any regard for her life, is to send a telegram at once to London, ordering competent advice."
"The Dean of Bedminster has a salary of eight hundred pounds per annum," I answered quietly. "Such a man as you would want me to send for would require a fee of some hundreds of guineas to make such a journey."
"And you would allow her to die for the sake of a few paltry pounds?" he cried. "Good heavens, Dick, I never thought you were a money-grabber."
"I am glad you did not," I answered. "It is of her father I am thinking. Besides, I do not know that the doctor here is as ignorant as you say. He has a most complicated and unusual case to deal with, and I honour him for admitting the fact that he does not understand it. Many men in his profession would have thrown dust in our eyes, and have pretended to a perfect knowledge of the case."
The young man did not see it in the same light as I did, and was plainly of the opinion that we were not doing what we might for the woman he loved. My wife, however, took him in hand after breakfast, and talked quietly but firmly to him. She succeeded where I had failed, and when I returned from an excursion to the chemist's, where I had the prescriptions made up, I found him in a tolerably reasonable frame of mind.
At a quarter to ten the doctor put in an appearance once more, and, after a careful inspection of his patient, informed me that it was his opinion that a consultant should be called in. This was done, and to our dismay the result came no nearer elucidating the mystery than before. The case was such a one as had never entered into the experience of either man. To all intents and purposes there was nothing that would in any way account for the patient's condition. The fever had left her, and she complained of no pain, while her mind, save for occasional relapses, was clear enough. They were certain it was not a case of paralysis, yet she was incapable of moving, or of doing anything to help herself. The duration of her illness was not sufficient to justify her extreme weakness, nor to account for the presence of certain other symptoms. There was nothing for it, therefore, but for us to possess our souls in patience and to wait the turn of events. When the doctors had departed I went in search of Glenbarth, and gave him their report. The poor fellow was far from being consoled by it. He had hoped to receive good news, and their inability to give a satisfactory decision only confirmed his belief in their incompetency. Had I permitted him to do so, he would have telegraphed at once for the best medical advice in Europe, and would have expended half his own princely revenues in an attempt to make her herself once more. It was difficult to convince him that he had not the right to heap liabilities on the old gentleman's shoulder, which, in honour bound, he would feel he must repay.
I will not bore my readers with the abusive arguments against society, and social etiquette, with which he favoured me in reply to my speech. The poor fellow was beside himself with anxiety, and it was difficult to make him understand that, because he had not placed a narrow band of gold upon a certain pretty finger, he was debarred from saving the life of the owner of that self-same finger. Towards nightfall it was certain that Miss Trevor's condition was gradually going from bad to worse. With the closing of the day the delirium had returned, and the fever had also come with it. We spent a wretchedly anxious night, and in the morning, at the conclusion of his first visit, the doctor informed me that, in his opinion, it would be advisable that I should telegraph to the young lady's father. This was an extreme step, and, needless to say, it caused me great alarm. It was all so sudden that it was scarcely possible to realize the extent of the calamity. Only two days before Miss Trevor had been as well as any of us, and certainly in stronger health than my wife. Now she was lying, if not at death's door, at least at no great distance from that grim portal. Immediately this sad intelligence was made known to me I hastened to the telegraph-office, and despatched a message to the Dean, asking him to come to us with all possible speed. Before luncheon I received a reply to the effect that he had already started. Then we sat ourselves down to wait and to watch, hoping almost against hope that this beautiful, happy young life might be spared to us. All this time we had seen nothing of the Don or of Nikola. The former, however, had heard of Miss Trevor's illness, and sent polite messages as to her condition. I did not tell Glenbarth of this, for the young man had sufficient to think of just then without my adding to his worries.
I must pass on now to describe to you the arrival of the Dean of Bedminster in Venice. Feeling that he would be anxious to question me concerning his daughter's condition, I made a point of going to meet him alone. Needless to say he was much agitated on seeing me, and implored me to give him the latest bulletin.
"God's will be done," he said quietly, when he had heard all I had to tell him. "I did not receive your letter," he remarked, as we made our way from the station in the direction of Galaghetti's hotel, "so that you will understand that I know nothing of the nature of poor Gertrude's illness. What does the doctor say is the matter with her?"
I then informed him how the case stood, and of the uncertainty felt by the two members of the medical profession I had called in. "Surely that is very singular, is it not?" he asked, when I had finished. "There are not many diseases left that they are unable to diagnose."
"In this case, however, I fear they are at a loss to assign a name to it," I said. "However, you will be able very soon to see her for yourself, and to draw your own conclusions."
The meeting between the worthy old gentleman and his daughter was on his side affecting in the extreme. She did not recognize him, nor did she know my wife. When he joined me in the drawing-room a quarter of an hour or so later his grief was pitiful to witness. While we were talking Glenbarth entered, and I introduced them to each other. The Dean knew nothing of the latter's infatuation for his daughter, but I fancy, after a time, he must have guessed that there was something in the wind from the other's extraordinary sympathy with him in his trial. As it happened the old gentleman had not arrived any too soon. That afternoon Miss Trevor was decidedly worse, and the medical men expressed their gravest fears for her safety. All that day and the next we waited in suspense, but there was no material change. Nature was fighting her battle stubbornly, inch by inch. The girl did not seem any worse, nor was there any visible improvement. On the doctor's advice a third physician was called in, but with no greater success than before. Then on one never-to-be-forgotten afternoon the first doctor took me on one side and informed me that in his opinion, and those of his colleagues, it would not be wise to cherish any further hopes. The patient was undeniably weaker, and was growing more so every hour. With a heart surcharged with sorrow I went to the Dean's room and broke the news to him. The poor old man heard me out in silence, and then walked to the window and looked down upon the Grand Canal. After a while he turned, and coming back to me once more laid his hand upon my arm.
"If it is the Lord's will that I lose her, what can I do but submit?" he said. "When shall I be allowed to see her?"
"I will make inquiries," I answered, and hastened away in search of the doctor. As I passed along the passage I met Galaghetti. The little man had been deeply grieved to hear the sad intelligence, and hastened in search of me at once.
"M'lord," said he, for do what I would I could never cure him of the habit, "believe me it is not so hopeless, though they say so, if you will but listen to me. There is Doctor Nikola, your friend! He could cure her if you went to him. Did he not cure my child?"
I gave a start of surprise. I will confess that the idea had occurred to me, but I had never given the probability of putting it into execution a thought. Why should it not be done? Galaghetti had reminded me how Nikola had cured his child when she lay at the point of death, and the other doctors of Venice had given her up. He was so enthusiastic in his praises of the doctor that I felt almost inclined to risk it. When I reached the drawing-room Glenbarth hastened towards me.
"What news?" he inquired, his anxiety showing itself plainly upon his face.
I shook my head.
"For God's sake don't trifle with me," he cried. "You can have no idea what I am suffering."
Feeling that it would be better if I told him everything, I made a clean breast of it. He heard me out before he spoke.
"She must not die," he said, with the fierceness of despair. "If there is any power on earth that can be invoked, it shall be brought to bear. Can you not think of anything? Try! Remember that every second is of importance."
"Would it be safe to try Nikola?" I inquired, looking him steadfastly in the face. "Galaghetti is wild for me to do so."
In spite of his dislike to Nikola, Glenbarth jumped at the suggestion as a drowning man clutches at a straw.
"Let us find him at once," he cried, seizing me by the arm. "If any one can save her he is the man. Let us go to him without a moment's delay."
"No, no," I answered, "that will never do. Even in a case of such gravity the proprieties must be observed. I must consult the doctors before calling in another."
I regret very much to say that here the Duke made use of some language that was neither parliamentary nor courteous to those amiable gentlemen.
I sought them out and placed the matter before them. To the idea of calling in a fourth consultant they had not the least objection, though they were all of the opinion that it could do no good. When, however, I mentioned the fact that that consultant's name was Nikola, I could plainly see that a storm was rising.
"Gentlemen," I said, "you must forgive me if I speak plainly and to the point. You have given us to understand that your patient's case is hopeless. Now I have had considerable experience of Doctor Nikola's skill, and I feel that we should not be justified in withholding him from our counsel, if he will consent to be called in. I have no desire to act contrary to medical etiquette, but we must remember that the patient's life comes before aught else."
One doctor looked at the other, and all shook their heads.
"I fear," said the tallest of them, who invariably acted as spokesman, "that if the services of the gentleman in question are called in, it will be necessary for my colleagues and myself to abandon our interest in the case. I do not of course know how far your knowledge extends, but I hope you will allow me to say, sir, that the most curious stories are circulated both as to the behaviour and the attainments of this Doctor Nikola."
Though I knew it to be true, his words nettled me. And yet I had such a deeply-rooted belief in Nikola that, although they were determined to give up the case, I felt we should still be equally, if not more, powerful without them.
"I sincerely hope, gentlemen," I said, "that you will not do as you propose. Nevertheless, I feel that I should not be myself acting rightly if I were to allow your professional prejudices to stand in the way of my friend's recovery."
"In that case I fear there is nothing left to us but to most reluctantly withdraw," said one of the men.
"You are determined?"
"Quite determined," they replied together. Then the tallest added, "We much regret it, but our decision is irrevocable."
Ten minutes later they had left the hotel in a huff, and I found myself seated upon the horns of a serious dilemma. What would my position be if Nikola's presence should exercise a bad effect upon the patient, or if he should decline to render us assistance? In that case I should have offended the best doctors in Venice, and should in all probability have killed her. It was a nice position to be placed in. One thing, however, was as certain as anything could be, and that was the fact that there was no time to lose. My wife was seriously alarmed when I informed her of my decision, but both Glenbarth and I felt that we were acting for the best, and the Dean sided with us.
"Since you deem it necessary, go in search of Doctor Nikola at once," said my wife, when the latter had left us. "Implore him to come without delay; in another hour it may be too late." Then in a heart-broken whisper she added, "She is growing weaker every moment. Oh, Dick, Heaven grant that we are not acting wrongly, and that he may be able to save her."
"I feel convinced that we are doing right," I answered. "And now I will go in search of Nikola, and if possible bring him back with me."
"God grant you may be successful in your search," said Glenbarth, wringing my hand. "If Nikola saves her I will do anything he may ask, and still be grateful to him all the days of my life."
Then I set off upon my errand.