“Miss Endacott, I want to speak to you for a moment, if I may, about young Ballaston.”
The sensitive lips quivered a little. Nevertheless she had self-control.
“Well, Doctor?”
“I don’t exactly know what has happened, of course,” he went on, “but you two were such pals at first, and now one can’t help noticing that you scarcely speak. Ballaston hasn’t said a word to me. This is all on my own, but I imagine that somehow or other, he has succeeded in offending you.”
“He has,” she acquiesced coldly.
“I don’t hold any brief for the young man,” the doctor proceeded, “but I can’t help wondering whether you know what he’s been through just lately. He’s had a wonderful adventure and played his part like a man. I won’t say a word about the morality of it, or the object of it, or anything else. I’ll only say that it was a jolly plucky thing to attempt and he only escaped with his life by a miracle.”
“I have heard all this,” Claire admitted.
“It is always after an exploit of this sort that one runs a danger of suffering from nerves. That’s precisely what’s happened to young Ballaston. In his stateroom down below he has that Image which he risked his life for, and he’s adopted the legend about it in a way I should never have dreamed a young fellow with his strength of character could have done. You know the legend?”
“I have heard it.”
“Well, Ballaston honestly believes that every hour he spends with this Image is doing him harm morally and that very belief is apt to make him behave at odd times impossibly. The thing won’t last, of course. He’ll get used to it, and the idea will pass out of his brain. It is there just now, and I tell you frankly that I believe it is likely to influence his actions.”