"Mind, I give you very little hope, Mr. Courage," he said. "I studied the case very seriously in London, and I perceived symptoms which our friend here has not yet had the opportunity of observing. My own opinion is that his time is short."
"I am sorry to hear you say so, doctor," I answered; "for I quite believe that you are in a position to know."
He blinked at me for a moment from behind his thick spectacles, and I fancied that he was going to say something more. Apparently, however, he changed his mind, and the carriage drove off. I made my way at once into the library. Mr. Stanley was still awaiting me.
"My mission," I announced, "has been a failure. He declines even to discuss the matter."
Mr. Stanley knocked the ash off his cigar and rose to his feet. His face showed neither disappointment nor surprise.
"The lady, I am afraid," he remarked, "will be sorry."
"It will be a great blow to her," I answered, "if he should die!"
Mr. Stanley shrugged his shoulders.
"He will die, and very soon," he declared. "You and I know that very well. You are a young man, Mr. Courage," he added very slowly, and with his eyes fixed intently upon me. "You have a beautiful home and a simple, useful life—a long one, I trust—before you! Mr. Guest is not by any means old, but he made enemies! It is never wise to make enemies."
"Is this a warning?" I asked.