"There you are wrong," said the doctor. "I should be rather tempted to say that the Luck is the only thing in the world he does believe in. I tell you this for an obvious reason: he is not sane on the point; we are dealing with a monomaniac, and he is more to be feared than a sane man. He will run greater risks to secure his end. But it is late: I must go. During the next week I shall certainly learn the whole of Mr. Francis's plans, for I shall refuse to help him in any way unless I know all. Good-bye. You will please stop in London till you hear from me."
Geoffrey got up.
"Tell me," he said, "when did you determine to help Harry?"
"I do not think that if I told you, you would trust me the more," said the doctor.
"I assure you I shall not trust you less."
Dr. Armytage took his umbrella from the corner.
"A fortnight ago only," he said, "on the day I first saw Harry. Think of me as you will, so long as you do what I tell you. I really care very little about anything else, even whether you trust or mistrust me, provided only you behave as if you trusted me. Yes, till I saw him, and spent the evening with him on the day you left; prescribed for his agitated nerves, and gave him a sleeping-draught——"
"I'm glad I didn't know that before," said Geoffrey frankly.
"It might certainly have caused you some uneasiness. But not till then did I decide to save him if I could, and not to do—the other thing. And every day strengthened my decision, and the thought of the ten thousand pounds grew less attractive. My reason is hard to give you, convincingly, at any rate. It was due, perhaps, to a great charm and attractiveness which Lord Vail possesses; it was due, perhaps, to an idea in my own mind that I would not commit murder. That sounds a little crude, does it not? But we are dealing with crudities. Good-bye again."