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Updated: June 20, 2025
There is no doubt not the least doubt in my mind that the man Oxbye is the man buried under the name of Lord Harry, and that he was murdered murdered in cold blood by that worst of villains "'My husband, I said. "'Your husband most unfortunate of wives! As for Lord Harry's share in the murder, it is equally plain that he knew of it, even if he did not consent to it. Good heavens!
Vimpany, with a letter of which this was the conclusion: "Considering, therefore, that on Wednesday morning I left Lord Harry in perfect health; considering that on the Thursday morning I saw the man who had been ill so long actually die how, I have told you in the packet enclosed; considering that the nurse was called in purposely to attend a patient who was stated to have long been ill there can be no doubt whatever that the body in the cemetery is that of the unfortunate Dane, Oxbye; and that, somewhere or other, Lord Harry is alive and well.
The messenger proved to be a young man employed in the secretary's office. Oxbye still persisting in his desire to be placed under Mr. Vimpany's care; one last responsibility rested on the official gentlemen now in charge of him.
"The Dane Oxbye," she said, "was growing better fast when I went away. That was the reason why I was sent away. The very next day the doctor, thinking me far away, poisoned him. I saw him do it. The nurse was told that he was asleep, and being left alone presently discovered that he was dead. She has been told that the sick man is a young Irish gentleman. He is buried under the name of Lord Harry.
Oxbye made a remark on the weather, and took his leave, without looking at Mr. Oxbye. So strongly was Fanny's curiosity excited by this strange behaviour, that she ventured one day to speak to her master. "I am afraid, my lord, you are not hopeful of Mr. Oxbye's recovering?" "Mind your own business," was the savage answer that she received.
As for help, there was none: the nurse was gone on some errand; the doctor was arranging for the funeral of Oxbye under the name of Lord Harry Norland; the cottage was empty. Such a fainting fit does not last for ever. Iris came round, and sat up, looking wildly around. "What is it?" she cried. "What does it mean?" "It means, my love, that you have returned to your husband."
The explanations having been offered and approved, there was a general move to the bed occupied by the invalid who was an object of professional interest to the English doctor. The patient's name was Oxbye. He was a native of Denmark, and had followed in his own country the vocation of a schoolmaster.
Have you had a look at the poor fellow whom the doctor is going to cure?" he asked abruptly; eager to discover whether she had noticed the likeness between Oxbye and himself. Her eyes rested on him attentively. "I have not yet seen the person you allude to," she answered. "Is Mr. Vimpany hopeful of his recovery?" He took out his case, and busied himself in choosing a cigar.
In the hall she heard the voices of the doctor and Lord Harry and the clicking of knives and forks. They were at breakfast. One thing more What should she say to Oxbye? What excuse should she make for coming back? How should she persuade him to keep silence about her presence? His passion suggested a plan and a reason.
"A medical case can never give too much trouble that is impossible. Remember, Oxbye, it is Science which watches at your bedside. You are not Oxbye; you are a case; it is not a man, it is a piece of machinery that is out of order. Science watches: she sees you through and through. Though you are made of solid flesh and bones, and clothed, to Science you are transparent.
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