"At Cairo I heard from a man that your husband was too ill to travel, and therefore certainly could not under any circ.u.mstances have gone to England when he heard of his brother"s death. At Luxor from a woman I heard very much the same story."
"Of course, and probably with plenty of embroidery and exaggeration."
"Perhaps. But sunstroke can be a very serious thing."
"I never heard you were a specialist in sunstroke."
"And is Doctor Baring Hartley, who is watching this case from a.s.souan?"
They looked at each other for a minute in silence. Then she said:
"Perhaps I"ve been a little unjust to-night. I"ve had a good deal of trouble lately, and it"s upset my nerves. I know you care for Nigel, and I"m grateful to you for your friendly anxiety. But perhaps you don"t realize that you"ve expressed that anxiety in a way that--well, that has seemed to reflect upon me, upon my conduct, and any woman, any wife, would resent that, and resent it keenly."
"I"m sorry," he said, coldly. "In what way have I reflected upon you?"
"Your words, your whole manner--they seem to show doubt of my care of and anxiety about Nigel. I resent that."
"I"m sorry," he said again, and again with almost icy coldness.
Her lips trembled.
"Perhaps, being a man, you don"t realize how it hurts a woman who has been through a nervous strain when some one pushes in from outside and makes nothing of all she has been doing, tacitly belittles all her care and devotion and self-sacrifice, and tries, or seems to wish to try, to thrust himself into her proper place."
"Oh, Mrs. Armine, you are exaggerating. I wish nothing of that kind. All I wish is to be allowed to use such medical talent as G.o.d has given me in the service of your husband and my friend."
Her lips ceased from trembling. "I cannot insult Doctor Baring Hartley by consenting to bring in another doctor behind his back," she said. And now her voice was as cold, as hard, as decisive as his own. "I am astonished that you should be so utterly indifferent to the etiquette of your own profession," she added.
"I will make that all right with Doctor Hartley when I get to a.s.souan."
"There will be no need for that."
"Do you mean that you are going to refuse absolutely to allow me to see your husband?"
"I do. In any case, you could not see him to-night, as he is asleep--"
She stopped. Through the silent boat there went the sharp, tingling noise of an electric bell.
"As he is asleep." She spoke more quickly and unevenly. "And to-morrow Doctor Hartley will be here, and I shall go by what he says. If he wishes a consultation--"
Again the bell sounded. She frowned. Hamza appeared at the door leading from the deck. He closed the door behind him, crossed the cabin without noise, opened the farther door, and vanished, shutting it with a swift gentleness that seemed almost unnatural.
"Then it will be a different matter, and I shall be very glad indeed to have your opinion. I know its value"--she looked towards the door by which Hamza had gone out--"but I must treat Doctor Hartley with proper consideration. And now I must say good night."
Her voice still hurried. Quickly she held out her hand.
"The felucca will take you home. And to-morrow, as soon as Doctor Hartley has been here and I have had a talk with him and heard what he thinks, I"ll let you know all about it. It"s very good of you to bother."
But Isaacson did not take the outstretched hand.
"Your husband is awake," he said, abruptly.
Her hand dropped.
"I think, I"m sure, that if he knew I was here he would be very glad to see me. I know you"ll tell him, and let him decide for himself."
"But I"m sure he is asleep. I left him asleep."
"That bell--"
She smiled.
"Oh, that wasn"t Nigel! That was my French maid. She"s very glorified here. She makes Hamza attend upon her, hand and foot."
As she spoke, Isaacson remembered the words in Nigel"s letter: "She packed off her French maid so as to be quite free."
"Oh, your maid!" he said.
And his voice was colder, firmer.
"Yes."
"But surely it may have been your husband who rang?"
"No, I don"t think so. I"m quite sure not. Once Nigel gets off to sleep he doesn"t wake easily."
"But I thought he suffered from insomnia!"
Directly he had said the words, Isaacson realized that he had made a false step. But it was too late to retrieve it. She was upon him instantly.
"Why?" she said, sharply. "Why should you think that?"
"You--"
"I never said so! I never said a word of it!"
She remembered the steps Nigel had said he heard when they were together upon the balcony, and beneath the rouge on her face her cheeks went grey.
"I never said a word of it!" she reiterated, with her eyes fastened upon him.
"You spoke of having "got him off to sleep"--of having "played him to sleep." I naturally gathered that he had been sleeping badly, and that sleep was very important to him. And then the clock!"
He pointed to the broken toy from Switzerland.
But the greyness persisted in her face. He knew that his attempted explanation was useless. He knew that she had realized his overhearing of her conversation with Nigel. Well, that fact, perhaps, cleared some ground. But he would not show that he knew.
"Your vexation about the clock proved that the patient was sleeping badly and was sensitive to the least noise."
She opened her lips twice as if to speak, and shut them without saying anything; then, as if with a fierce effort, and speaking with a voice that was hoa.r.s.e and ugly as the voice he had heard in the temple, she said: