He could not understand these strange words or the hopeless look in her eyes, and he watched for Stimson with an anxiety that was painful.
At last the valet was alone with him, and Sir Harold spoke quickly: “You have attended me during my fever, have you not, Stimson?”
“Yes, master.”
“Have I talked much? Out with it, man! Why was my wife permitted to remain at my bedside?”
“She insisted, Sir Harold, upon watching over you. You have talked rather wildly about Lady Elaine Seabright, the shadow of a knife, and other equally foolish things.”
For a minute Annesley was silent. His thoughts were perplexed.
“Stimson,” he said at last, “my mind is now as clear as possible. I am not quite sure, though, whether or not I met Lady Elaine in Hyde Park the same day that I was taken ill. It may have been a dream, and I want you to find out the truth.”
“You did meet Lady Elaine, Sir Harold. Her maid has called twice to inquire about you. Lady Annesley is not aware of it, though.”
Sir Harold groaned.
“Stimson, there has been some horrible mistake. I must see Lady Elaine for a few minutes, and then leave England forever. My duty is toward my loving, trusting wife.”