There was a faint murmured protest, then again the doctor"s voice, heavy and intolerant:
"Good G.o.d, woman, what possible difference can he make, or anyone else, for that matter? You appear to overlook the fact that all is being done for your husband that can be done. There is not the slightest cause for alarm."
Another murmur, longer than before, then in a slightly modified tone, though still dictatorial:
"I see no reason why you shouldn"t sleep, but if you insist I will give you something.... Here, one powder, not more, or I"ll not be answerable for the consequences.... And remember, don"t come here again. If you want me, send your maid for me. Good-night."
There was the faint sound of the door dosing, then silence. Esther shut the window cautiously, so that her neighbour might not suspect he had been overheard.
Exactly why she minded his knowing was not clear to her. There had certainly been nothing wrong in the conversation. It was the doctor"s manner towards his employer that was strange, that was all. She found herself puzzling about it after she was in bed. Her brain was very active; she could not compose herself to sleep, though when she tried to a.n.a.lyse her state of mind there seemed little to cause her vague discomfort. She knew that many women made confidants of their medical men; there was nothing surprising in Lady Clifford"s unburdening herself to Sartorius on the subject of her husband"s will. The overbearing familiarity with which the doctor treated her was harder to understand, yet even there it was difficult to say there was anything abnormal. It merely suggested that these two had known each other a long time, had not, indeed, the formal relation of physician and patient. Whatever the case, there was nothing one could definitely say was wrong, yet...
"I don"t in the least know why," she said to herself as she lay in bed, "but I"ve got a feeling there is something queer going on in this house--something--something _underhand_. There! I"ve said it."
Yet, admitting this, what could be wrong? Not surely anything to do with Sir Charles"s case, which was a straightforward affair? The patient was progressing well, with every reasonable hope of recovery.
To the outward eye, at least, everything was smooth and normal....
Why was it she suddenly recalled an incident of many years back, dating from her childhood in Manitoba? One of her sisters had played a trick on her. On going to bed one night, she had turned back the smooth, white counterpane of her bed to find, to her horror, a whole nest of young garden-snakes curled up together between the sheets. The exterior of the bed had given not the slightest inkling of the loathsome contents, so carefully had her sister tidied the clothes.
Perverse that this particular incident should have come to her now out of the past!
Esther was not psychic, she was not even given to premonitions. Yet she knew that she was sensitive to the emotional states and conflicts of those about her. She had always been able, on entering a room full of people, to tell instinctively if anything was amiss, though whether her faculty was purely intuitional or merely the delicate functioning of a mental process she was unable to say, any more than a person suffering from "cat-fear" can tell how he detects the presence of the hidden cat, whether the warning comes out of the blue, or is the result of finely developed olfactory nerves.
In the present instance, having no tangible grounds for her conviction, she became exasperated and made repeated resolutions to put the entire thing out of mind. It was no use; she was wide awake, over-excited, the room felt hot, the cover got in her way. Why on earth were French sheets so many yards long? This one kept coming up about her neck and stifling her. Again and again she flung it back, until a final gesture of fury brought her hand in contact with a hard object, which fell with a clatter to the floor. It was her small alarm-clock. She picked it up and set it on the table beside her, where it ticked busily away.
How long it was before the welcome tide of drowsiness engulfed her she did not know. She hardly realised she had been asleep when gradually she became aware of something heavy lying across her body, pressing down upon her with an inert weight. The unpleasant consciousness grew, she wanted to rid herself of the incubus, but she felt curiously drugged, impotent. The weight increased; at the same time it seemed to have life of a certain sort, slow-moving and lethargic; it crept upward slowly, always pressing heavily upon her. She was cramped, her body ached, her breath came with difficulty, she turned and twisted, tried to free her arms, but they were pinioned close to her sides. What was the Thing thus crushing her? She strained to see, but the darkness was like black velvet; she could see nothing, only feel, breathlessly, chokingly. A horrible idea a.s.sailed her. Whatever it was, it was striving to suffocate her--yes, and it was going to succeed, unless she could muster the strength to cast it off.
Panic seized her. She struggled, possessed by a mad terror; she opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came, her voice was paralysed like the rest of her. Up and up crept the weight, it reached her throat, she felt it graze her chin. Its touch was cold and scaly; she shuddered at the contact. At the same dreadful moment she realised what the Thing was. Instantly her vision cleared as if an inky cloud had rolled away, and she stared with starting eyes into the small, cold eyes of a python!
The flat head was drawing slowly nearer, the mouth opened, she saw the darting tongue--the creature was going to bite. Then with a rush her voice came back; she screamed aloud...
CHAPTER XVI
She heard her own voice, m.u.f.fled and unnatural. It seemed to work a sort of magic, for the python vanished, melted away like mist; she drew a great shuddering breath and found she was lying on her bed, unharmed, but with the sheet m.u.f.fled about her throat and the thick eiderdown quilt resting in a roll across her. Her heart was still pounding, perspiration streamed from her while she laughed hysterically and repeated to herself:
"But pythons don"t bite! Pythons don"t bite!"
No, of course!--how absurd it was!--they crushed you to death. What an illogical creation of her sub-consciousness! It had been so vivid, the sensation so acute, the thing had had such solidity! Revelling in her sense of security, she lay quite still, listening to her breathing as it slowed down to normal. What had prompted the dream? Was it because she had been thinking of that snake episode of her childhood? Was it a python after all? Somehow there seemed more to it than that; the suspicion haunted her that the dream held some hidden significance.
A sharp tap came at the door.
"Who is it?" she cried, starting up and realising that it was morning.
The door opened a crack and the slightly prim accents of the night-nurse called through:
"It"s after your usual time," she said. "I thought you would like to know."
Esther sprang out of bed.
"Oh, I"m dreadfully sorry! Something must have gone wrong with my clock."
It was true. Last night"s accident had damaged the alarm. She raced through her dressing and hurried across the hall to her patient"s room, devoutly hoping the doctor would not find out she had overslept. Luck was against her. For the first time since she had been on the case he was there before her, standing at the foot of the bed, looking down thoughtfully at the sleeping old man. It was not a heinous offence to be twenty minutes late on a single occasion, yet somehow the sight of the big, bulky figure, planted there as though lying in wait for her, made her suddenly uncomfortable.
"I"m afraid I"ve overslept a little," she murmured apologetically as she greeted him.
Instead of replying, he took his watch from his pocket and looked at it. Then, without moving his head, he turned his little greyish eyes upon her and regarded her fixedly. That was all, yet she felt completely crushed by his disapprobation. She started to make excuses, then felt that she could not. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She knew that any explanation would sound stupid and futile.
Why was it the man affected her in this oppressive fashion? No other doctor had ever done so. Why was it that the mere physical presence of him, of his big, thick body and his little bald head with its small, glancing eyes, filled her at times with a sort of repulsion? From the first she had had the sensation vaguely, now it had become intensified a hundred-fold.
"I"m developing nerves!" she scolded herself severely as she went into the dressing-room to prepare her patient"s morning milk. "Why should I be afraid of any man? ... Yet it isn"t that I"m exactly afraid. I can"t explain it, quite."
She was glad when she returned to find him gone. She gratefully drank the tea which a maid brought her and began to take a more normal view of things. She recalled the fact that to-night she was going to dine and dance with Roger Clifford, and the thought cheered her immensely.
By the time she had had her breakfast she was inwardly calm and ready to face the doctor when he came for his usual morning visit. Moreover, she was pleased about Sir Charles, who was making really steady progress. It astonished her that a man of his age and general health should be doing so well.
With this in her mind, she was unprepared for the sober, pessimistic expression of Dr. Sartorius"s face when he had finished his examination. He withdrew a little distance from the bed, and beckoned her to follow him.
"We must do something," he said in a low tone, frowning at the carpet.
"I do not like his extreme weakness. His pulse is bad, very bad. He needs boosting up."
"Why, doctor, I thought he was doing so well! I ... that is, considering he"s over seventy and all that, it seemed to me that..."
Her voice trailed off, blighted by the brief scorn with which he glanced at her before continuing steadily:
"We must put some strength into him--if we can. Iron and a.r.s.enic ..."
"Oh, yes, doctor, certainly--injections."
"There are two things we have to fear now," he continued didactically, still in a whisper. "One is his general condition of weakness, the other is--excitement. He mustn"t be upset in any way--or startled."
"No, of course not: I"ll be very careful."
She wondered a little that he should a second time lay such stress on the matter of excitement. He seemed to have little confidence in her, but that, she suspected, might be owing to his low opinion of women in general.
"That is all. I"d better give him an injection now, I think."
"Yes, doctor."
She brought the usual accessories--a basin of water, cotton-wool, iodine--and placed them on the little table by the bed, feeling a sudden grave doubt about her patient. Had she been too optimistic? If she had, then so had the night-nurse, who only last evening had remarked to her how well the old man was going on. Yet she was impressed by the doctor"s ability to discern things hidden from her eyes. Perhaps all along he had regarded it as a losing fight.
"Now then, nurse, help me to get Sir Charles over on his left side."
The invalid did not demur, merely made a grimace as the needle shot into his emaciated thigh. With the basin in one hand and a wad of cotton-wool in the other, Esther happened to glance at the doctor. He was stooping over, his thick body bent at the hips, his small eyes narrowed in cold absorption as he watched the mixture run through the needle into the flesh. Suddenly her eyes grew round, she stared fascinated. Something stirred in her memory, a suggestion that was horrible, frightening. What was it? Ah, now she knew: her nightmare--the python! He reminded her of a python.
"Good G.o.d! nurse, what are you about?"
The basin had fallen from her shaking hand to the floor. How stupid of her! She was on her knees in an instant, confused, apologetic, mopping up the puddle with a towel.
"I can"t think how it happened," she stammered, feeling an utter fool, and conscious of the cold, amazed scrutiny directed at her from above.