"Can you think of any other motive?"
"Ah! you are monstrous," said Geoffrey suddenly; "you suggest monstrous things."
"I have suggested nothing. I want to hear your suggestion. What is it, Geoffrey?"
"You mean that Mr. Francis does not want Harry to marry at all. You remember that he is Harry's heir. Do you not see how absurd such an idea is? Who ever heard of an old man, over seventy, trying to make his grand-nephew a celibate? You might as well hope to rear a child who should never see a fire or a book."
"Ah! you are shocked," said Lady Oxted, "but wait a moment. Do you remember what you told me about Dr. Godfrey and Dr. Armytage? Geoffrey, what is that sinister man doing at Vail? He is appalling, I tell you. He is one of the black spots on the medical profession. Heart specialist! He is a surgeon of terrible dexterity—unscrupulous, venal. What does Mr. Francis want with him?"
Geoffrey got up in great excitement.
"I will hear no more," he said, in a tremulous voice. "It is you who suggest things that I have to put into words. Tell me what you mean; say straight out what you suspect?"
Lady Oxted rose too.
"If I knew what I suspected, I would tell you," she said. "But I can't make out what it is. At any rate we have talked long enough for the present."
She paused a moment, then broke out again, her own anxiety—how deep she had never known till this minute—breaking all bounds.