8 4 
THE STRAND MAGAZINE. 
And then a strange thing happened, or so 
it seemed to Mandeville, and yet it was not 
strange after all. She rang up again, and 
said, “ Give me 126 Hampton.” 
That was Mandeville’s own number. He 
waited, but still did not move. He might 
have been a carven man save for the strange 
anxiety and tension of his eyes. Perhaps his 
housekeeper would not hear the telephone 
bell, or if she heard it might not rise, even 
though she knew the doctor was out. Never- 
theless, he heard presently that she did come 
to the ’phone. 
“ What ? ” said Margery. “ Is Dr. 
Mandeville out, too ? What shall I do ? 
What shall I do ? ” 
She dropped the receiver on the desk and 
sprang to her feet. It seemed as if she had 
heard something, or as if her instinct had told 
her at last that somebody was there, that she 
was not alone. Perhaps Mandeville had 
breathed heavily, or made some little motion. 
She saw him there plainly. He was holding 
a picture in his hand. There was something 
in his right hand. too. She did not know 
what it was, but she knew that this was her 
lover, Tom Mandeville. It seemed a hallu- 
cination, not real ; something dreamed, 
imagined — something that came out of her 
tense anxiety. She had summoned him, and 
here he was — and yet, was he here ? 
She rubbed her eyes and looked again, and 
there he stood as white as death, staring at 
her. He was the man she loved, although 
shp had never told him so. She was naturally 
strong, naturally reticent. She had diffi- 
culties with herself. She found it hard to 
speak even when her emotions bade her 
Speak. This was her strength, as it was 
often her sorrow. She, too, went as pale as 
death, but she did not scream. She waited a 
long second and knew that he was real. He 
nodded to her strangely, turned about, hung 
up the picture on the nail again, and put the 
screw-driver in his pocket. He turned again, 
and stood before her with bowed head, 
waiting. 
And she said : <£ Dr. Mandeville— Tom— 
what are you doing here ? ” 
He answered very simply: £ ‘ Yes — what ? ” 
He looked for any answer, he was prepared 
for anything, however awful : for she might 
say cruel things, seeing that she must under- 
stand. And yet, deep in his mind, far down 
in it, there was a little hope, too. She wanted 
him urgently— there was that smell of 
iodoform. 
“ I may be very useful,” said Tom 
Mandeviile to himself ; “ I may be wanted.” 
And yet that was a little far-off thought ; 
a faint, almost indistinguishable light in 
awful darkness. His real, outward mind, 
his consciousness with which he apprehended 
her immediately, was amazed when she spoke ; 
for she cried .out suddenly, with a strange 
light in her eyes : “ Oh, I’m glad you’ve 
come. Thank God ! Thank God 1 Come 
with me upstairs, Tom, the boy is dying.” 
“ Ah ! ” said Mandeville. 
When a man is mad, quite insane, altogether 
out of himself, he will often answer to a 
normal appeal made to him by someone in 
natural authority. This was a normal appeal 
to Mandeville. Somebody was dying. People 
were in great distress. This boy who was 
ill, the child about whom Holloway’s life 
circled, the child for whom he was little 
better than a thief — a high-placed scoundrel 
who might be placed higher yet. 
“ Dying ? ” said Mandeville. His face 
became less like a strained and carven mask. 
His eyes lighted again with a human light. 
He wrinkled his face as though with a desire 
to feel his rigid muscles move. He came back 
to himself. He was a man once more, a 
physician. He spoke in a perfectly natural 
way, as one who asked for information 
quickly when quickness was necessary. 
He said : ££ Now, Margery, you tell me the 
boy’s dying. What’s wrong with him ? ” 
She cried out : “ It’s diphtheria, and he’s 
choking. I can’t get Dr, Savage or anyone. 
Come upstairs with me now.” 
She took him by the arm, and as he went 
he said : “ Yes, yes — but how will you 
explain my coming so quickly ? ” 
“ Never mind that,” she said. “ Never 
mind that — I can explain.” 
“ You understand why? ” he asked. 
“ Oh, yes ; I understand,” said Margery. 
“ I’ve heard several things. That doesn’t 
matter — come upstairs. Thank God you’ve 
come 1 ” 
He said no more, but went with her. When 
they got to the first-floor landing a door stood 
open opposite to them. Through it he heard 
certain sounds that he had heard before, and 
he saw old Holloway standing by the door 
with his hands clenched in his hair as if he 
would tear it out. Suddenly the old man 
cried aloud, and yet it was not like a human 
erv, it was something almost bestial, like the 
yelp of a tortured cur. Mandeville passed 
him and saw Mrs. Holloway on her knees by 
the bed. On the other side the nurse was 
standing. Mandeville judged her on the 
moment ; she was probably useless, most 
likely not properly trained. 
