Part 29 (1/2)
”Addison, will you have brandy or whisky?”
”Whisky, please, doctor.”
Lawler took his master's cloak and hat, and the doctor came up to the fire.
”So Valentine has gone home to bed?” he said.
”Yes.”
”He's all right, I hope?”
”Yes. Indeed, doctor, I thought him looking more fit than usual to-day, more alive than I have often seen him.”
”I noticed that last night, when he revived from his trance. It struck me very forcibly, very forcibly indeed. But you--” and the doctor's eyes were on Julian's face--”look older than your age to-night, my boy.”
He sat down and lit a cigar. The mastiffs coiled themselves at his feet rapturously. They sighed, and he sighed too, quietly in satisfaction.
He loved the one hour before midnight, the hour of perfect rest for him.
Putting his feet on Rupert's back, he went on:
”Last night's events upset you seriously, I see, young and strong though you are. But the most muscular men are more often the prey of their nervous systems than most people are aware. Spend a few quiet days. Fence in the morning. Ride--out in the country, not in the Park. Get off your horse now and then, tie him up at a lych-gate and sit in a village church. Listen to the amateur organist practising 'Abide with me,' and the 'Old Hundredth,' on the Leiblich Gedacht and the Dulciana, with the bourdon on the pedals. There's nothing like that for making life seem a slow stepper instead of a racer. And take Valentine with you. I should like to sit with him in a church at twilight, when the rooks were going home, and the organ was droning. Ah, well, but I must not think of holidays.”
”Doctor, I like your prescription. Yes; I am feeling a bit out of sorts to-night. Last night, you see--and then to-day.”
”Surely, Addison, surely you haven't been sitting--but no, forgive me.
I've got your promise. Well, what is it?”
Julian replied quickly:
”That man I told you about, Marr, is dead.”
Doctor Levillier looked decidedly startled. Julian's frequent allusions to Marr and evident strange interest in the man, had impressed him as it had impressed Valentine. However, he only said:
”Heart disease?”
”I don't know. There is going to be an inquest.”
”When did he die?”
”Last night, or rather at four in the morning; just as Valentine came out of his trance, it must have been. Don't you remember the clock striking?”
”Certainly, I do. But why do you connect the two circ.u.mstances?”
”Doctor, how can you tell that I do?”
”By your expression, the tone of your voice.”
”You are right. Somehow I can't help connecting them. I told Valentine so to-night. He has been with me to see Marr's body.”
”You have just come from that deathbed now?”