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Updated: May 28, 2025
There were beads of perspiration upon his forehead, his eyes were filled with reminiscent horror. Mr. Fentolin bent over him with genuine interest. "What a picture he would make!" he murmured. "What a drama! Do you know, I am half inclined to agree with you, Sarson. The only trouble is that you have not your instruments here."
Hamel and Gerald stood under the great stone portico, watching. "Well, I'm jiggered!" the boy exclaimed, under his breath. Hamel was watching the proceedings with a puzzled frown. To his surprise, neither Doctor Sarson nor Meekins were accompanying the departing man. "He's off, right enough," Hamel declared, as the car glided away. "Do you understand it? I don't."
Hamel," his host begged. "My niece and nephew will do their best to entertain you. Now, Sarson, I am ready." Mr. Fentolin glided across the dim, empty spaces of the splendid apartment, followed by the doctor; a ghostly little procession it seemed. The door was closed behind them. For a few moments a curious silence ensued.
Fentolin, having succeeded in getting rid of his niece and his somewhat embarrassing guest for at least two hours, was seated in his study, planning out a somewhat strenuous morning, when his privacy was invaded by Doctor Sarson. "Our guest," the latter announced, in his usual cold and measured tones, "has sent me to request that you will favour him with an interview." Mr.
As soon as the little vehicle had apparently reached the bottom, he turned, thrust the electric torch in his pocket, and stepped lightly down the ladder. Doctor Sarson followed his example. They disappeared in perfect silence and left the door open. Presently a gleam of light came travelling up, from which Hamel knew that they had lit a lamp below.
Fentolin's cigars in his mouth, step from the bottom stair into the hall and make his way with somewhat uncertain footsteps towards the front door. Doctor Sarson walked on one side, and Meekins held him by the arm. He glanced towards Gerald and his companion and waved the hand which held his cigar. "So long, my young friend!" he exclaimed. "You see, I've got them to let me make a start.
Doctor Sarson came slowly and gravely to the bedside. He looked down upon his patient. Mr. Dunster shivered. "I am not sure, sir," he said very softly, "that Mr. Dunster, in his present state of mind, is a very safe person to be allowed his freedom. It is true that we have kept him here for his own sake, because of his fits of mental wandering. Our statements, however, may be doubted.
Until then, you are mine. Remember that. Ah! this is Doctor Sarson who comes, I believe. That must mean that it is five o'clock. Come in, Doctor. I am not engaged. You see, I am alone with my dear niece and nephew. We have been having a little pleasant conversation." Doctor Sarson bowed to Esther, who scarcely glanced at him. He remained in the background, quietly waiting.
A motor-car, I believe?" "It is Miss Fentolin who is just arriving," the doctor announced. "I saw the car coming as I crossed the hall." Mr. Fentolin nodded gently. "Indeed?" he replied. "Indeed? So my dear niece has returned. Open the door, friend Sarson. Open the door, if you please. She will be anxious to see me. We must summon her." Mr.
In less than a minute he put it away. "This is quite unnecessary," he pronounced. "Your pulse is wonderful." "Not hurried? No signs of palpitation?" "You have seven or eight footmen, all young men," Doctor Sarson replied drily. "I will wager that there isn't one of them has a pulse so vigorous as yours." Mr. Fentolin leaned a little back in his chair.
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