*CHAPTER XXVIII*
*BEYOND SURGERY*
Wilfrid had to repeat his command more than once before Beatrice seemedto understand what he was saying. The girl was dazed with the horror ofthe thing. She stood looking at the white, still figure on the bed,marvelling what was going to happen next. And yet, at the back of hermind there was a glimmering of the truth. This was a vendetta and theserelentless foes would never slack their efforts until Samuel Flower hadpaid the debt to the last penny. Many of these things Beatrice had readabout in the pages of fiction. She had forgotten, perhaps, that thereare stranger things in every-day life.
As for Wilfrid he was calm enough. His professional instincts came tohis aid. Laying his hand gently upon Beatrice's shoulder he led herfrom the room.
"I want you to be brave and silent," he whispered. "I want you to helpme all you can. It is possibly a selfish reflection, but your life issafe. If you would save your uncle, you must do what I tell you."
"I will try," Beatrice murmured. "What do you want me to do? Oh, Iremember."
She departed without another word, leaving Wilfrid to do what he couldwith her uncle. This second attack was much more serious than thefirst, for Samuel Flower lay to all appearance dead. It was notdifficult for Wilfrid to make an examination, for Flower had undressedand gone to bed before the attack. He lay on his back with his armsinert by his side, the deep purple of his cheeks had given way to aghastly whiteness. Wilfrid could detect not the slightest trace ofviolence anywhere, nothing but one or two small indentations on theforehead and at the back of the head. Try as he would Wilfrid couldmake nothing of the case. And if he could trust to his trainedknowledge, he felt sure that no explanation would ever come fromFlower's lips, for surely the man was dead.
He could hear no murmur from the heart. By laying the glass of hiswatch on the murdered man's lips he could distinguish no moisture. Hecould only wait patiently until assistance came, and then tell the storyas best he could. With almost a sensation of shame Wilfrid realizedthat Flower was harmless to do him further injury. He tried to put thematter out of his mind, but it recurred more than once, until he wasfain to walk up and down the room in the growing light. He pulled up theblinds by and by and let in the flood of day. Even in the strong lighthe could detect no motion and no change in that awful figure on the bed.Inured as he was to these kind of tragedies, it was with a thrill ofthankfulness that he heard steps coming up the stairs and saw a strangerenter the room. There was no reason for Wilfrid to ask if the new-comerwere a doctor, for he carried his profession in every crease of hiswell-fitting frock-coat, in every line of his well-groomed hair.
"My name is Dr. Shelton," he said. "I am sorry to be so late, but Ihave only just got back to town. So this is your patient? What do youthink he is suffering from? You have made an examination?"
"I haven't the remotest idea," Wilfrid said frankly. "I have never seena case like it before. Mr. Flower lies there to all appearances dead. Hedoes not breathe. There is not the slightest motion of the heart, andyet, _rigor mortis_ has not set in. I should say it is some braintrouble."
Dr. Shelton stripped off his coat and turned up his shirt sleeves. Fora long time he bent over the bed, but at last he stood upright drawing along breath.
"Most extraordinary," he murmured. "Everything points to severeconcussion of the brain, and yet there is not the slightest trace ofviolence; there is no suggestion of a blow, or fall, or anything of thatkind. We must wait till the patient comes to himself as he will beforelong."
"He is not dead, then?" Wilfrid asked.
"No. It is a case of suspended animation. That the brain is seriouslyinjured the congestion of the eyes proves beyond demonstration. But,surely, you can throw some light on this mystery. How came you to becalled in?"
Wilfrid had been dreading the question for some time. He hardly knewhow to explain matters to this polished man of the world whose lines hadprobably always fallen in conventional places.
"Well, it was like this," he began. "I have lately started a practicein Oldborough and Mr. Flower has a country house close by. I was calledin to attend him for a trifling injury, and when I got to the house Idiscovered that Miss Galloway, Mr. Flower's niece, was an old friend; infact, we had met in London some months ago. Miss Galloway had been underthe impression that some one was trying to get into the house, butperhaps I had better tell you at length what really happened."
Wilfrid proceeded with his statement, purposely, however, saying nothingas to the mysteriously-knotted string, or the strange incantations whichhe had watched on the part of the Malays. These matters seemed to havenothing to do with the case, nor could they influence the opinion of Dr.Shelton. He told his story straightforwardly, how he had got into thishouse and what sort of reception had met him. Shelton raised hiseyebrows incredulously.
"So you think this is a case of burglary?" he asked. "Mr. Flower hassomething in the house which these villains were after. You say you sawthem in this room when you entered by the balcony?"
"I did," Wilfrid replied. He was feeling on safer ground now. "Isuppose my presence frightened them and, you see, I had other things tothink of. It is very singular that these fellows did Mr. Flower noviolence."
"No violence whatever," Shelton said emphatically. "They hadn't gone asfar as that, though their intentions might have been murderous. Itseems to me, Dr. Mercer, that this is a case as much for the police asfor the medical man. At any rate, I frankly own that I am as puzzled asyourself. It will be a great favour to me if you will remain here whileI go to Harley Street, as I should like another opinion besides my own.If you stay in the house it will be sufficient. It will be some timebefore Mr. Flower regains consciousness."
Wilfrid expressed his willingness to do whatever was necessary and Dr.Shelton bustled away. The servants were moving about the house now.Wilfrid heard the clock strike the hour of eight, then; presently, anappetizing odour of cooking stole over the room. It was nearly an hourlater before Beatrice came and asked the latest news. There was nochange, for Flower lay as he had done three hours before.
"I have told the servants nothing," Beatrice whispered. "They havemerely been informed that my uncle has had a slight seizure and that thehouse must be kept very quiet. But won't you come downstairs and havebreakfast? It is ready in the dining-room. And if you could manage tostay here till Dr. Shelton returns----"
Wilfrid explained that he had already promised to do so. Despite thethrilling adventure of the night before, he was hungry and did amplejustice to his meal. At the same time he could not forget his ownaffairs. It might be a security to feel that Flower lay upstairs beyondthe reach of mischief, but Flower was not alone in this business. Beyonddoubt the man Cotter had received his instructions. Beyond doubt thelaw was already in motion which was to deprive Wilfrid of his good nameand his means of living. It was hard he should have to stay there doingnothing and keep watch and ward over a man who was intending to ruin himthrough another; but of this he could say nothing to Beatrice.
She sat at the foot of the table playing with a cup of tea and sometoast; recent events had shaken her terribly. For some time she keptsilent.
"I must speak to you, Wilfrid," she said presently. "I want to know ifyou have found out anything. I want to know if you have discoveredanything that has been hidden from me. Tell me truthfully, is this thefirst attack of the kind which has been made upon my uncle? Didn't avery similar thing happen the night you were at Maldon Grange?"
"I am sorry you asked me that," Wilfrid said quietly, "because I cannotlook you in the face and tell you a lie. Of course I can't say yetwhether I was successful last night, but under Providence I mostassuredly saved Samuel Flower's life on the occasion you speak of.Please don't ask me more. Try to be brave and patient, and all will bewell."
Beatrice said no more, but it was evident she was putting a great strainupon her curiosity.
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