CHAPTER IX
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.
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.
CHAPTER X
To the joy of every one, by the Thursday following Miss Trevor was sufficiently recovered to be able to leave her room. It was a happy day for every one concerned, particularly for the Duke, who came nearer presenting the appearance of an amiable lunatic on that occasion than I had ever seen him before. Why my wife should have encouraged him in his extravagance I cannot say, but the fact remains that she allowed him to go out with her that morning with the professed idea of purchasing a few flowers to decorate the drawing-room for the invalid's reception. So great was their extravagance that the room more resembled a hot-house, or a flower-show, than a civilized apartment. I pointed this out to my wife with a gentle remonstrance, and was informed that, being a mere husband, I knew nothing at all about the matter. I trust that I preserved my balance and lived up to my reputation for sanity in the midst of this general excitement, though I am prepared to confess that I was scarcely myself when the triumphal procession, consisting of my wife and the Dean, set off to the invalid's apartment to escort her in. When she appeared it was like a ghost of her former self, and a poor wan ghost too. Her father, of course, she had already seen, but neither I nor Glenbarth had of course had the honour of meeting her since she was taken ill. She received him very graciously, and was kind enough to thank me for the little I had done for her. We seated her between us in a comfortable chair, placed a footstool under her feet, and then, in order that she should not have too much excitement, and that she might rest quietly, the Dean, the Duke, and myself were sent about our business for an hour. When we returned, a basket of exquisite roses stood on the table, and on examining it the card of Don Josè de Martinos was found to be attached to it.
It is some proof of the anxiety that Glenbarth felt not to do anything that might worry her, when I say that he read the card and noted the giver without betraying the least trace of annoyance. It is true that he afterwards furnished me with his opinion of the giver for presuming to send them, but the casual observer would have declared, had he been present to observe the manner in which he behaved when he had first seen the gift, that he had taken no interest in the matter at all.
Next day Miss Trevor was permitted to get up a little earlier, and on the day following a little earlier still. In the meantime more flowers had arrived from the Don, while he himself had twice made personal inquiries as to the progress she was making. It was not until the third day of her convalescence that Nikola called to see his patient. I was sitting alone with her at the time, my wife and our other two guests having gone shopping in the Merceria. I was idly cutting a copy of a Tauchnitz publication that I had procured for her on the previous day. The weather was steadily growing warmer, and, for this reason, the windows were open and a flood of brilliant sunshine was streaming into the room. From the canal outside came the sounds of rippling laughter, then an unmistakably American voice called out, "Say, girls, what do you think of Venice now you're here?" Then another voice replied, "Plenty of water about, but they don't seem to wash their buildings much." Miss Trevor was about to speak, in fact she had opened her lips to do so, when a strange expression appeared upon her face. She closed her eyes for a moment, and I began to fear that she was ill. When she opened them again I was struck by a strange fact; the eyes were certainly there, but there was no sort of life in them. They were like those of a sleep-walker who, while his eyes are open, sees nothing of things about him. A moment later there was a knock at the door, and Doctor Nikola, escorted by a servant, entered the room. Wishing us "good-morning," he crossed the room and shook hands with Miss Trevor, afterwards with myself.
"You are certainly looking better," he said, addressing his patient, and placing his finger and thumb upon her wrist as he spoke.
"I am much better," she answered, but for some reason without her usual animation.
"In that case I think this will be the last visit I shall pay you in my professional capacity," he said. "You have been an excellent patient, and in the interests of what our friend Sir Richard here calls Science, permit me to offer you my grateful thanks."
"It is I who should thank you," she answered, as if she were repeating some lesson she had learnt by heart.
"I trust then, on the principle that one seldom or never acts as one should, that you will not do it," he replied, with a smile. "I am amply rewarded by observing that the flush of health is returning to your cheeks."
He then inquired after my wife's health, bade me be careful of her for the reason that, since I had behaved so outrageously towards them, no other doctors in Venice would attend her, should she be taken ill, and then rose to bid us adieu.
"This is a very short visit," I said. "Cannot we persuade you to give us a little more of your society?"
"I fear not," he answered. "I am developing quite a practice in Venice, and my time is no longer my own."
"You have other patients?" I asked, in some surprise, for I did not think he would condescend to such a thing.
"I have your friend, Don Martinos, now upon my hands," he said. "The good Galaghetti is so abominably grateful for what I did for his child, that he will insist on trying to draw me into experimenting upon other people."
"Would it be indiscreet to ask what is the matter with the Don?" I said. "He does not look like a man who would be likely to be an invalid."
"I do not think there is so very much wrong with him," Nikola replied vaguely. "At any rate it is not anything that cannot be very easily put right."
When he left the room I accompanied him down the corridor as far as the hall.
"The fact of the matter is," he began, when we were alone together, "our friend the Don has been running the machinery of life a little too fast of late. I am told that he lost no less a sum than fifty thousand pounds in English money last week, and certainly his nerves are not what they once were."
"He is a gambler, then?" I said.
"An inveterate gambler, I should say," Nikola answered. "And when a Spaniard takes to that sort of amusement, he generally does it most thoroughly."
Whatever the Don's illness may have been, it certainly had made its mark upon his appearance. I chanced to meet him that afternoon on the Rialto bridge, and was thunderstruck at the change. The man's face was white, and his eyes had dark rings under them, that to my thinking spoke for an enfeebled heart. When he stopped to speak to me, I noticed that his hands trembled as though he were afflicted with St. Vitus's dance.
"I hope Miss Trevor is better," he said, after I had commented upon the fact that I had not seen him of late.
"Much better," I answered. "In fact, she may now be said to be convalescent. I was sorry to hear from Doctor Nikola, however, that you yourself are not quite the thing."
"Nerves, only nerves," he answered, with what was almost a frightened look in his eyes. "Doctor Nikola will set me right in no time, I am sure of that. I have had a run of beastly luck lately, and it has upset me more than I can say."
I knew to what he referred, but I did not betray my knowledge. After that he bade me farewell, and continued his walk. That evening another exquisite basket of flowers arrived for Miss Trevor. There was no card attached to it, but as the Duke denied all knowledge of it, I felt certain as to whence it came. On the day following, for the first time since her illness, Miss Trevor was able to leave the house and to go for a short airing upon the canal. We were rejoiced to take her, and made arrangements for her comfort, but there was one young man who was more attentive than all the rest of the party put together. Would Miss Trevor like another cushion? Was she quite sure that she was comfortable? Would she have preferred a gondola to a barca? I said nothing, but I wondered what the Dean thought, for he is an observant old gentleman. As for the young lady herself, she accepted the other's attentions with the most charming good-humour, and thus all went merry as marriage-bells. On the day following she went out again, and on the afternoon of the next day felt so much stronger as to express a desire to walk for a short time on the piazza of St. Mark. We accordingly landed at the well-known steps, and strolled slowly towards the cathedral. It was a lovely afternoon, the air being soft and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing in from the sea.
It is needless for me to say that Glenbarth was in the Seventh Heaven of Delight, and was already beginning to drop sundry little confidences into my ear. Her illness had ruined the opportunity he had hoped to have had, but he was going to make up for it now. Indeed it looked very much as if she had at last made up her mind concerning him, but, having had one experience of the sex, I was not going to assure myself that all was satisfactory until a definite announcement was made by the lady herself. As it turned out it was just as well that I did so, for that afternoon, not altogether unexpectedly I must confess, was destined to prove the truth of the old saying that the course of true love never runs smooth. Miss Trevor, with the Duke on one side and my wife on the other, was slowly passing across the great square, when a man suddenly appeared before us from one of the shops on our right. This individual was none other than the Don Josè de Martinos, who raised his hat politely to the ladies and expressed his delight at seeing Miss Trevor abroad once more. As usual, he was faultlessly dressed, and on the whole looked somewhat better in health than he had done when I had last seen him. By some means, I scarcely know how it was done, he managed to slip in between my wife and Miss Trevor, and in this order we made our way towards our usual resting-place, Florian's café. Never, since we had known him, had the Don exerted himself so much to please. The Duke, however, did not seem satisfied. His high spirits had entirely left him, and, in consequence, he was now as quiet as he had been talkative before. It was plain to all of us that the Don admired Miss Trevor, and that he wanted her to become aware of the fact. Next morning he made an excuse and joined our party again. At this the Duke's anger knew no bounds. Personally I must confess that I was sorry for the young fellow. It was very hard upon him, just as he was progressing so favourably, that another should appear upon the scene and distract the lady's attention. Yet there was only one way of ending it, if only he could summon up sufficient courage to do it. I fear, however, that he was either too uncertain as to the result, or that he dreaded his fate, should she consign him to the Outer Darkness, too much to put it into execution. For this reason he had to submit to sharing her smiles with the Spaniard, which, if only he could have understood it, was an excellent thing for his patience, and a salutary trial for his character.
Meanwhile my wife looked on in despair.
"I thought it was all settled," she said pathetically, on one occasion, "and now they are as far off as ever. Why on earth does that troublesome man come between them?"
"Because he has quite as much right to be there as the other," I answered. "If the Duke wants her, let him ask her, but that's just what he won't do. The whole matter should have been settled by now."
"It's all very well for you to say that," she returned. "The poor boy would have done it before Gertrude was taken ill, but that you opposed him."
"And a very proper proceeding too," I answered. "Miss Trevor was under my charge, and I was certainly not going to let any young man, doubtless very desirable, but who had only known her two days, propose to her, get sent about his business, render it impossible for our party to continue together, and by so doing take all the pleasure out of our holiday."
"So it was only of yourself you were thinking?" she returned, with that wonderful inconsistency that is such a marked trait in her character. "Why do you urge him now to do it?"
"Because Miss Gertrude is no longer under my charge," I answered. "Her father is here, and is able to look after her." Then an idea occurred to me, and I acted upon it at once.
"When you come to think of it, my dear," I said, as if I had been carefully considering the question, "why should the Don not make Gertrude as good a husband as Glenbarth? He is rich, doubtless comes of a very good family, and would certainly make a very presentable figure in society."
She stared at me aghast.
"Well," she said in astonishment, "I must say that I think you are a loyal friend. You know that the Duke has set his heart on marrying her, and yet you are championing the cause of his rival. I should never have thought it of you, Dick."
I hastened to assure her that I was not in earnest, but for a moment I almost fancy she thought I was.
"If you are on the Duke's side I wonder that you encourage Don Martinos to continue his visits," she went on, after the other matter had been satisfactorily settled. "I cannot tell you how much I dislike him. I feel that I would rather see Gertrude married to a crossing-sweeper than to that man. How she can even tolerate him, I do not know. I find it very difficult to do so."