Part 4 (1/2)

I told it him quite simply--making no attempt to conceal or exaggerate anything. I described how the idea of making a bolt had come suddenly into my mind, and how I had acted on it without reflection or hesitation. Step by step I went quietly through my adventures, from the time when the fog had rolled down to the moment when, half fainting with hunger and exhaustion, I had climbed in through his kitchen window.

Leaning on the arm of his chair, he listened to me in silence. As far as any movement or change of expression was concerned a statue could scarcely have betrayed less interest, but all the time the steady gleam of his eyes never s.h.i.+fted from my face.

When I had finished he remained there for several seconds in the same att.i.tude. Then at last he gave a short mirthless laugh.

”It must be pleasant to be as strong as you are,” he said. ”I should have been dead long ago.”

I shrugged my shoulders. ”Well, I don't exactly feel like going to a dance,” I answered.

He got up and walked slowly as far as the window, where he turned round and stood staring at me thoughtfully. At last he appeared to make up his mind.

”You had better go to bed,” he said, ”and we will talk things over in the morning. You are not fit for anything more tonight.”

”No, I'm not,” I admitted frankly; ”but before I go to bed I should like to feel a little more certain where I'm going to wake up.”

There was a faint sound outside and I saw him raise his head. It was the distant but unmistakable hum of a motor, drawing nearer and nearer every moment. For a few seconds we both stood there listening: then with a sudden shock I realized that the car had reached the house and was turning in at the drive.

Weak as I was I sprang from my chair, scarcely feeling the thrill of pain that ran through me at the effort.

”By G.o.d!” I cried fiercely, ”you've sold me!”

He whipped out the revolver, pointing it full at my face.

”Sit down, you fool,” he said. ”It's not the police.”

CHAPTER IV

ECHOES OF A FAMOUS CASE

Whatever my intentions may have been--and they were pretty venomous when I jumped up--the revolver was really an unnecessary precaution.

Directly I was on my feet I went as giddy as a kite, and it was only by clutching the chair that I saved myself from toppling over. I was evidently in a worse way than I imagined.

Lowering his weapon the doctor repeated his order.

”Sit down, man, sit down. No one means you any harm here.”

”Who is it in the car?” I demanded, fighting hard against the accursed feeling of faintness that was again stealing through me.

”They are friends of mine. They have nothing to do with the police.

You will see in a minute.”

I sat down, more from necessity than by choice, and as I did so I heard the car draw up outside the back door.

Crossing to the window the doctor threw up the sash.

”Savaroff!” he called out.

There came an answer in a man's voice which I was unable to catch.