"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, d.i.c.k, 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."

"G.o.d 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, d.i.c.k, 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, d.i.c.k, 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 pa.s.s 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.

"G.o.d'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 a.s.sign 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 Ca.n.a.l. 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 pa.s.sed along the pa.s.sage 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 G.o.d'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."