WHILE WE WAITED
When Sir Beverley Drake undertakes a case, he puts his whole soul into it, and no sacrifice of time or trouble is too much. I loved the dear man when he quietly announced that he would live at Ralston Old Manor, coming in the day before the transfusion, and remaining till what he called the "end of the treatment, first phase."
This meant that he would be on the spot for a month. By that time he could be practically certain whether or not the serum had "gripped" the disease, and would at last conquer it. If "success" were the verdict, Sir Beverley would instruct another doctor how to continue the hypodermics and other treatment, and observe results.
"Selfishly, I should have liked to put the patient into a nursing home at Exeter," he said, "where I could stay at home and visit him once a day. But I didn't feel that would be giving the man his best chance. He's in love with his wife, and in love with his house. I wouldn't separate him from either."
This was splendid of Sir Beverley, and splendid for Murray—except for one possibility which I foresaw. What if Rosemary or Murray himself should suggest Paul Jennings as the doctor understudy? I was afraid that this might happen, both because Jennings lived so near the Manor, and because of the friendship which Rosemary had oddly struck up with the French wife.
I dared not prejudice Sir Beverley against Murray's distant cousin, for I'd heard nothing to Paul's disadvantage—rather the contrary. He was said to be a smart doctor, up to date in his methods, and "sure to get on." Still, I thought of the changed portraits, and tried to put the microbe of an idea into Sir Beverley's head. I told him that, if it hadn't been for Ralston Murray, Jennings would without much doubt have inherited the Manor, with a large sum of money.
The specialist's quick brain caught what was in mine as if I'd tossed it to him, like a ball. "I suppose, if Murray died now, Jennings could hope for nothing," he said, "except perhaps a small legacy. Murray will have made a will in his wife's favour?"
"Yes," I replied, "or he made a will when he was engaged to her, and has added a codicil since. But it's unusual in some ways, and might be disputed."
Sir Beverley smiled. "Well, don't worry," he reassured me. "I have my own candidate to take over the job when I leave the Manor. I wouldn't trust a stranger, no matter how good a doctor he might be. So that's that."
It was! I felt satisfied; and also more than satisfied with Rosemary. I went to see her the day before the transfusion experiment, and found her radiant in a strange, spiritual way. It seemed to me more like exaltation than any earthly sort of happiness; and her words proved that my feeling about it was right.