Thorne was sympathetic. He talked of nerve-shock in various forms, from which most returning soldiers suffered.
As he fumbled among medicine bottles he went on: "I'll prescribe you a tonic; I keep a few things at hand here, and I can fix you up from my stock. Some of the ingredients are rare. You couldn't get a prescription made up nearer than New York. No, by George! there's one thing missing from my lot! Luckily it's not one of the rare ones. Did you come in a car? What, you walked? Well, I'll get the boy to sprint into the village on his bike, to the pharmacy. He can be back inside fifteen minutes. I'll write to the druggist."
Thorne touched an electric button. No one came in response. Impatiently the doctor flung the door open to glare at Miss Murphy. Miss Murphy was not visible, however, and away dashed the master of the house, leaving me in his private office to wonder at his absence. This office being behind the outer room gave no view of the front gate, therefore I could not see what Thorne saw. It wasn't until he appeared that I learned why he had bolted. The boy whom he had intended to send for the missing ingredients had been run down by a motor-car, while bicycling to the post-office. The chauffeur had, through coincidence, been despatched by a patient waiting for Thorne. He had taken a corner too sharply, and knocked the boy off his bicycle, but Joey was more frightened than hurt. He had been picked up by the chauffeur, a foreigner, and when Thorne had looked from the window, it had been to see the lad lifted half conscious from the returning car. At the gate stood not only Miss Murphy, but the owner of the automobile, who had hurried out on hearing the young woman's cry. So it was that the waiting-room had been left empty.
"Joey's as right as rain now, or will be when he's pulled himself together," Thorne explained. "My new patient, whoever he is—a stranger to me—seemed to feel worse than Joey. He gave the kid ten dollars! It may have been as much the boy's fault as the chauffeur's. Anyhow, I bet Joey won't complain. Your medicine will be ready as soon as if nothing had happened, for the owner of the auto (Genardius, his name is) offered to drive to the druggist's and back."
It was Miss Murphy who presently handed the doctor a small, neatly wrapped bottle. "That chauffeur brought me this," she announced. "It seems that Joey's accident upset the invalid gentleman more than he realised at first. He was taken faint at the pharmacy, and decided not to consult you this morning. He'll 'phone, and ask for an appointment."
Dr. Thorne tore the wrapper off the phial, and began pouring its colourless contents into a bottle already two-thirds full, which he had prepared. Suddenly he stopped. "I guess I'll let that do for this time! Take a tablespoonful when you get home, and twice more during the day; once just before bed."
Dr. Thorne inspired me with confidence; and, as I was anxious to keep my wits for Maida's sake, I intended to follow directions. Arriving at my hotel, however, I found a cablegram in answer to one I'd sent Haslemere, in London. I had demanded whence came the scandal which darkened the life of Maida Odell. Replying, he refused details, but deigned to admit that his informant was an American, the widow of a naval officer, of "unimpeachable respectability." That word "unimpeachable" was so characteristic of Haslemere that I laughed, but the description answered closely enough to Mrs. Granville to excite me, and I forgot the medicine.
Later, I had remembered it once more when Teano called, bringing the dumb child Nicky, now his adopted son. I set down the bottle and thought no more about it, for I hoped to learn something of the man who had frightened Maida. My hope that Nicky might turn informant seemed, however, doomed to disappointment. It was difficult to elicit facts, because of his dumbness; but Teano and I agreed that the imp took advantage of his infirmity to bottle up secrets. "He's in fear of some threat," pronounced the detective. "It's the same with his mother. Jenny and I were married the day after you found her. She says she's happy, and she ought to know I'm able to protect her. But she's afraid to speak against the Sisterhood. I shouldn't wonder if they've made her swear some oath."
We talked long on the subject, and Teano produced a list of Egyptians living in New York, obtained at my request. Some were rich. The greater number appeared to be engaged in the import of tobacco and curios, or Eastern carpets. A few were doctors; more were fortune-tellers; while one extraordinary creature whose description caught my fancy was a mixture of both: an exponent of ancient cults and religions, and a qualified physician who treated nervous ailments with hypnotism. This man gave weekly lectures on "Egyptian Wisdom applied to Modern Civilisation," and was known as "Doctor" or "Professor" Rameses. The name was, of course, assumed; but Teano had learned that Dr. Rameses was more than respectable; he was estimable. Following his religion, which claimed that each soul was a spark from the one Living Fire, he aimed to help all mankind, and was apparently a true philanthropist.
When Teano spoke of returning to New York it was time for me to start. I invited him into my car, and preparing to depart, I came upon the forgotten medicine. Thorne had prophesied that I would prove a bad patient; but I tried to atone by swallowing an extra large dose. The bottle I slipped into my overcoat pocket, intending to take the stuff again at bedtime.