The doctor showed no sign of resentment, but he did not immediately reply.
"This will not do at all," he said at length. "Either you trust me, or you do not. If you do not, I will go: we are but wasting words. I may remind you, however, that if I am playing a double game, my conduct in wishing to see you is utterly unaccountable; but if not, that it will be barely possible for me alone to save your friend, for it is my strong impression that Mr. Francis's man—Sanders, is it not?—will help his master. Come, which is it to be?"
"Yes, I trust you," said Geoffrey in great agitation. "I ought never to have said that. Please go on."
"I can give you no certain details yet," said the doctor, "but the attempt will be made between Harry's return to Vail from Lady Oxted's, where he goes in a few days, and his moving to London before the marriage. So much I have gathered from Mr. Francis. It is, you will understand, of the utmost importance to him that the marriage should never be consummated. More exactly than that I can not tell you, but I want you, in any case, to hold yourself in readiness to come to Vail, or anywhere else, at a moment's notice, and at a word from me."
"Yes, I promise that," said Geoffrey.
"The particulars I can not give you," continued the doctor, "for I do not yet know them; indeed, I doubt whether Mr. Francis has yet worked them out himself. But to-day, as we were coming up in the train, he blew on his flute a long time, and then said suddenly to me: 'I have a new hobby; the properties of certain powerful drugs. We will have some great talks about drugs when we are in London.' From this I gathered that he means to poison Harry."
"The damned old man!" exclaimed Geoffrey.
"Precisely. Now, his motive you know or guess: he is heir. But from what I have seen of him lately, he sets less store by that than on the fact that Harry's death will give him the Luck."
"The Luck! He doesn't believe in the Luck!" cried Geoffrey. "I have heard him laugh at Harry a hundred times for pretending to believe in it."