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Fentolin remarked, "he is quite safe, for Sarson tells me there is no chance of his being able to travel, at any rate for twenty-four hours." Lady Saxthorpe shivered. "Aren't you afraid to have him in the house?" she asked, "a man who is really and actually wanted by Scotland Yard?
Fentolin, surrounded by his satellites, was seated in his chair before the writing-table. There were present in the room most of the people important to him in his somewhat singular life. A few feet away, in characteristic attitude, stood Meekins. Doctor Sarson, with his hands behind him, was looking out of the window.
Doctor Sarson opened the door. They all passed in on tiptoe. The doctor led the way towards the bed upon which Mr. Dunster was lying, quite still. His head was bandaged, and his eyes closed. His face was ghastly. Gerald gave vent to a little muttered exclamation. Mr. Fentolin turned to him quickly. "Gerald!" The boy stood still, trembling, speechless. Mr. Fentolin's eyes were riveted upon him.
The darkness was so intense that they were actually within a yard or so of him before he could even dimly discern their shapes. There were three of them Mr. Fentolin in his chair, Doctor Sarson, and Meekins. They paused for a moment while the latter produced a key. Hamel distinctly heard a slow, soft whisper from Doctor Sarson. "Shall I go round to the front and see that he is in bed?"
The doctor had entered the room. "I am upset, Sarson," he declared. "Come and feel my pulse quickly. That woman has upset me." "Miss Price?" "Miss Price, d-n it! Lucy yes!" "It seems unlike her," the doctor remarked. "I have never heard her utter a useless syllable in my life." Mr. Fentolin held out his wrist. "It's what she doesn't say," he muttered. The doctor produced his watch.
Suddenly they heard the sound of a sharp report, as of a door above being slammed. "Some one was in the boat-house when I broke the trap-door," Meekins muttered. "I heard them moving about." Mr. Fentolin frowned. "Then let us hurry," he said. "Sarson, what about your patient?" Mr. Dunster was lying upon his side, watching them. The doctor went over to the bedside and felt his pulse and head.
"I don't know why I suggested it," he admitted. "I only thought that an outside doctor might help you to get rid of the fellow." Mr. Fentolin shrugged his shoulders. "After all," he said, "the matter is of no real consequence. Doctor Sarson assures me that we shall be able to send him on his way very shortly. In the meantime, Mr. Hamel, what about the Tower?" "What about it?"
Doctor Sarson nodded silently. He drew from his pocket a little phial and poured into a wine-glass which stood on a table by the side of the bed, half a dozen drops of some ruby-coloured liquid, to which he added a tablespoonful of water. Then he leaned once more over the bed and poured the contents of the glass between the lips of the semi-conscious man. "Give him two minutes," he said calmly.
"You do not wish anything dispatched?" "Nothing at present," Mr. Fentolin sighed. "It will be well, I think, for the poor man to remain undisturbed by any communications from his friends. Is he restless at all?" "He wants to get on with his journey." "We shall see," Mr. Fentolin remarked. "Now feel my pulse, Sarson. How am I this morning?"
The doctor held them out. Mr. Fentolin took them eagerly between his thin, delicate fingers. Suddenly his face darkened, and became like the face of a spoilt and angry child. "Cipher!" he exclaimed furiously. "A cipher which he knows so well as to remember it, too! Never mind, it will be easy to decode. It will amuse me during the afternoon. Very good, Sarson. I will take charge of these."
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