Part 17 (2/2)
”I was not,” replied c.u.mberly, glancing sharply at Max. ”Good heavens, to think that I had never realized the truth!”
”It is not so wonderful at all. Of course, as I have seen from the evidence which you gave to the police, you knew that Mrs. Vernon was addicted to the use of opium?”
”It was perfectly evident,” replied c.u.mberly; ”painfully evident. I will not go into particulars, but her entire const.i.tution was undermined by the habit. I may add, however, that I did not a.s.sociate the vice with her violent end, except”...
”Ah!” interrupted Max, shaking his finger at the physician, ”you are coming to the point upon which you disagreed with the divisional surgeon! Now, it is an important point. You are of opinion that the injection in Mrs. Vernon's shoulder-which could not have been self-administered”...
”She was not addicted to the use of the needle,” interrupted c.u.mberly; ”she was an opium SMOKER.”
”Quite so, quite so,” said Max: ”it makes the point all the more clear. You are of opinion that this injection was made at least eight hours before the woman's death?”
”At least eight hours-yes.”
”Eh bien!” said Max; ”and have you had extensive experience of such injections?”
Dr. c.u.mberly stared at him in some surprise.
”In a general way,” he said, ”a fair number of such cases have come under my notice; but it chances that one of my patients, a regular patient-is addicted to the vice.”
”Injections?”
”Only as a makes.h.i.+ft. He has periodical bouts of opium smoking-what I may term deliberate debauches.”
”Ah!” Max was keenly interested. ”This patient is a member of good society?”
”He's a member of Parliament,” replied c.u.mberly, a faint, humorous glint creeping into his gray eyes; ”but, of course, that is not an answer to your question! Yes, he is of an old family, and is engaged to the daughter of a peer.”
”Dr. c.u.mberly,” said Max, ”in a case like the present-apart from the fact that the happiness-pardieu! the life-of one of your own friends is involved... should you count it a breach of professional etiquette to divulge the name of that patient?”
It was a disturbing question; a momentous question for a fas.h.i.+onable physician to be called upon to answer thus suddenly. Dr. c.u.mberly, who had resumed his promenade of the carpet, stopped with his back to M. Max, and stared out of the window into Harley Street.
M. Max, a man of refined susceptibilities, came to his aid, diplomatically.
”It is perhaps overmuch to ask you,” he said. ”I can settle the problem in a more simple manner. Inspector Dunbar will ask you for this gentleman's name, and you, as witness in the case, cannot refuse to give it.”
”I can refuse until I stand in the witness-box!” replied c.u.mberly, turning, a wry smile upon his face.
”With the result,” interposed Max, ”that the ends of justice might be defeated, and the wrong man hanged!”
”True,” said c.u.mberly; ”I am splitting hairs. It is distinctly a breach of professional etiquette, nevertheless, and I cannot disguise the fact from myself. However, since the knowledge will never go any further, and since tremendous issues are at stake, I will give you the name of my opium patient. It is Sir Brian Malpas!”
”I am much indebted to you, Dr. c.u.mberly,” said Max; ”a thousand thanks;” but in his eyes there was a far-away look. ”Malpas-Malpas! Where in this case have I met with the name of Malpas?”
”Inspector Dunbar may possibly have mentioned it to you in reference to the evidence of Mr. John Exel, M. P. Mr. Exel, you may remember”...
”I have it!” cried Max; ”Nom d'un nom! I have it! It was from Sir Brian Malpas that he had parted at the corner of Victoria Street on the night of the murder, is it not so?”
”Your memory is very good, M. Max!”
”Then Mr. Exel is a personal friend of Sir Brian Malpas?
”Excellent! Kismet aids me still! I come to you hoping that you may be acquainted with the const.i.tution of Mrs. Leroux, but no! behold me disappointed in this. Then-morbleu! among your patients I find a possible client of the opium syndicate!”
”What! Malpas? Good G.o.d! I had not thought of that! Of course, he must retire somewhere from the ken of society to indulge in these opium orgies”...
”Quite so. I have hopes. Since it would never do for Sir Brian Malpas to know who I am and what I seek, a roundabout introduction is provided by kindly Providence-Ah! that good little angel of mine!-in the person of Mr. John Exel, M. P.”
”I will introduce you to Mr. Exel with pleasure.”
”Eh bien! Let it be arranged as soon as possible,” said M. Max. ”To Mr. John Exel I will be, as to Miss Ryland (morbleu! I hate me!) and Miss c.u.mberly (pardieu! I loathe myself!), M. Gaston! It is ten o'clock, and already I hear your first patient ringing at the front-door bell. Good morning, Dr. c.u.mberly.”
Dr. c.u.mberly grasped his hand cordially.
”Good morning, M. Max!”
The famous detective was indeed retiring, when: ”M. Max!”
He turned-and looked into the troubled gray eyes of Dr. c.u.mberly.
”You would ask me where is she-Mrs. Leroux?” he said. ”My friend-I may call you my friend, may I not?-I cannot say if she is living or is dead. Some little I know of the Chinese, quite a little; nom de dieu!... I hope she is dead!”...
XXIV
OPIUM
Denise Ryland was lunching that day with Dr. c.u.mberly and his daughter at Palace Mansions; and as was usually the case when this trio met, the conversation turned upon the mystery.
”I have just seen Leroux,” said the physician, as he took his seat, ”and I have told him that he must go for a drive to-morrow. I have released him from his room, and given him the run of the place again, but until he can get right away, complete recovery is impossible. A little cheerful company might be useful, though. You might look in and see him for a while, Helen?”
Helen met her father's eyes, gravely, and replied, with perfect composure, ”I will do so with pleasure. Miss Ryland will come with me.”
”Suppose,” said Denise Ryland, a.s.suming her most truculent air, ”you leave off... talking in that... frigid manner... my dear. Considering that Mira... Leroux and I were... old friends, and that you... are old friends of hers, too, and considering that I spend... my life amongst... people who very sensibly call... one another... by their Christian names, forget that my name is Ryland, and call me... Denise!”
”I should love to!” cried Helen c.u.mberly; ”in fact, I wanted to do so the very first time I saw you; perhaps because Mira Leroux always referred to you as Denise”...
”May I also avail myself of the privilege?” inquired Dr. c.u.mberly with gravity, ”and may I hope that you will return the compliment?”
”I cannot... do it!” declared Denise Ryland, firmly. ”A doctor ... should never be known by any other name than... Doctor. If I heard any one refer to my own... physician as Jack or... Bill, or d.i.c.k... I should lose ALL faith in him at once!”
As the lunch proceeded, Dr. c.u.mberly gradually grew more silent, seeming to be employed with his own thoughts; and although his daughter and Denise Ryland were discussing the very matter that engaged his own attention, he took no part in the conversation for some time. Then: ”I agree with you!” he said, suddenly, interrupting Helen; ”the greatest blow of all to Leroux was the knowledge that his wife had been deceiving him.”
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