Part 10 (1/2)
”That,” Dr. Wilmot remarked, ”is rather a bad feature of the case. It is a difficulty which I should imagine you could get over, though. You could easily frame some excuse to get him away from his study for a short time and leave me there. Of course the affair is in your hands altogether, and I am presuming that you are anxious to have an opinion as to your father's state of health. I am not in the habit of seeking patients,” he added, a little stiffly. ”I was interested in my friend Whitlett's description of the case, and anxious to apply my theories to it, as it happens to differ in some respects from anything I have met with lately. Further, I may add,” he continued, glancing at the clock, ”if anything is to be done it must be done quickly. I have no time to spare.”
”You had better,” Wolfenden suggested, ”stay here for the night in any case. We will send you to the station, or into Cromer, as early as you like in the morning.”
”Absolutely impossible,” Dr. Wilmot replied briefly. ”I am staying with friends in Cromer, and I have a consultation in town early to-morrow morning. You must really make up your minds at once whether you wish for my opinion or not.”
”I do not think,” Lady Deringham said, ”that we need hesitate for a moment about that!”
Wolfenden looked at him doubtfully. There seemed to be no possibility of anything but advantage in accepting this offer, and yet in a sense he was sorry that it had been made.
”In case you should attach any special importance to your father's ma.n.u.scripts,” Dr. Wilmot remarked, with a note of sarcasm in his tone, ”I might add that it is not at all necessary for me to be alone in the study.”
Wolfenden felt a little uncomfortable under the older man's keen gaze. Neither did he altogether like having his thoughts read so accurately.
”I suppose,” he said, turning to his mother, ”you could manage to get him away from the library for a short time?”
”I could at least try,” she answered. ”Shall I?”
”I think,” he said, ”that as Dr. Wilmot has been good enough to go out of his way to call here, we must make an effort.”
Lady Deringham left the room.
Dr. Wilmot, whose expression of absolute impa.s.siveness had not altered in the least during their discussion, turned towards Wolfenden.
”Have you yourself,” he said, ”never seen any of your father's ma.n.u.scripts? Has he never explained the scheme of his work to you?”
Wolfenden shook his head.
”I know the central idea,” he answered--”the weakness of our navy and coast defences, and that is about all I know. My father, even when he was an admiral on active service, took an absolutely pessimistic view of both. You may perhaps remember this. The Lords of the Admiralty used to consider him, I believe, the one great thorn in their sides.”
Dr. Wilmot shook his head.
”I have never taken any interest in such matters,” he said. ”My profession has been completely absorbing during the last ten years.”
Wolfenden nodded.
”I know,” he remarked, ”that I used to read the newspapers and wonder why on earth my father took such pains to try and frighten everybody. But he is altogether changed now. He even avoids the subject, although I am quite sure that it is his one engrossing thought. It is certain that no one has ever given such time and concentrated energy to it before. If only his work was the work of a sane man I could understand it being very valuable.”
”Not the least doubt about it, I should say,” Dr. Wilmot replied carelessly.
The door opened and Lady Deringham reappeared.
”I have succeeded,” she said. ”He is upstairs now. I will try and keep him there for half an hour. Wolfenden, will you take Dr. Wilmot into the study?”
Dr. Wilmot rose with quiet alacrity. Wolfenden led the way down the long pa.s.sage which led to the study. He himself was scarcely prepared for such signs of unusual labours as confronted them both when they opened the door. The round table in the centre of the room was piled with books and a loose heap of papers. A special rack was hung with a collection of maps and charts. There were nautical instruments upon the table, and compa.s.ses, as well as writing materials, and a number of small models of men-of-war. Mr. Blatherwick, who was sitting at the other side of the room busy with some copying, looked up in amazement at the entrance of Wolfenden and a stranger upon what was always considered forbidden ground.
Wolfenden stepped forward at once to the table. A sheet of paper lay there on which the ink was scarcely yet dry. Many others were scattered about, almost undecipherable, with marginal notes and corrections in his father's handwriting. He pushed some of them towards his companion.
”You can help yourself,” he said. ”This seems to be his most recent work.”
Dr. Wilmot seemed scarcely to hear him. He had turned the lamp up with quick fingers, and was leaning over those freshly written pages. Decidedly he was interested in the case. He stood quite still reading with breathless haste--the papers seemed almost to fly through his fingers. Wolfenden was a little puzzled. Mr. Blatherwick, who had been watching the proceedings with blank amazement, rose and came over towards them.
”You will excuse me, Lord Wolfenden,” he said, ”but if the admiral should come back and find a stranger with you looking over his work, he will----”
”It's all right, Blatherwick,” Wolfenden interrupted, the more impatiently since he was far from comfortable himself. ”This gentleman is a physician.”
The secretary resumed his seat. Dr. Wilmot was reading with lightning-like speed sheet after sheet, making frequent notes in a pocket-book which he had laid on the table before him. He was so absorbed that he did not seem to hear the sound of wheels coming up the avenue.
Wolfenden walked to the window, and raising the curtain, looked out. He gave vent to a little exclamation of relief as he saw a familiar dogcart draw up at the hall door, and Dr. Whitlett's famous mare pulled steaming on to her haunches.
”It is Dr. Whitlett,” he exclaimed. ”He has followed you up pretty soon.”
The sheet which the physician was reading fluttered through his fingers. There was a very curious look in his face. He walked up to the window and looked out.
”So it is,” he remarked. ”I should like to see him at once for half a minute--then I shall have finished. I wonder whether you would mind going yourself and asking him to step this way?”
Wolfenden turned immediately to leave the room. At the door he turned sharply round, attracted by a sudden noise and an exclamation from Blatherwick. Dr. Wilmot had disappeared! Mr. Blatherwick was gazing at the window in amazement!
”He's gone, sir! Clean out of the window--jumped it like a cat!”
Wolfenden sprang to the curtains. The night wind was blowing into the room through the open cas.e.m.e.nt. Fainter and fainter down the long avenue came the sound of galloping horses. Dr. Franklin Wilmot had certainly gone!
Wolfenden turned from the window to find himself face to face with Dr. Whitlett.
”What on earth is the matter with your friend Wilmot?” he exclaimed. ”He has just gone off through the window like a madman!”
”Wilmot!” the doctor exclaimed. ”I never knew any one of that name in my life. The fellow's a rank impostor!”
CHAPTER XVI.
GENIUS OR MADNESS?
For a moment Wolfenden was speechless. Then, with a presence of mind which afterwards he marvelled at, he asked no more questions, but stepped up to the writing-table.
”Blatherwick,” he said hurriedly, ”we seem to have made a bad mistake. Will you try and rearrange these papers exactly as the admiral left them, and do not let him know that any one has entered the room or seen them.”
Mr. Blatherwick commenced his task with trembling fingers.
”I will do my best,” he said nervously. ”But I am not supposed to touch anything upon this table at all. If the admiral finds me here, he will be very angry.”
”I will take the blame,” Wolfenden said. ”Do your best.”
He took the country doctor by the arm and hurried him into the smoking-room.