Beatrice said no more, but it was evident she was putting a great strain upon her curiosity.
CHAPTER XXIX
A MESSAGE
The morning dragged slowly and Wilfrid began to think that Shelton had forgotten about his patient. It was maddening to wander about the house wasting precious time, when perhaps the blow had already fallen at Oldborough. More than once Wilfrid was tempted to make his way to the City where he could discuss his affairs with Russell and Uzali.
And what had happened to the latter? How was he getting on after his cruel treatment of the previous evening? And what was Russell doing all this time? Wilfrid was debating the matter seriously when, about midday, a motor car drove up and Dr. Shelton, accompanied by a colleague, got out. Shelton raised his brows interrogatively at Wilfrid, who shook his head.
"No change," the latter murmured. "He is just as you left him, hovering between life and death. I don't wish to be inconvenient but I shall be very glad if you will release me as soon as possible. I have urgent business in the City which is going to rack and ruin without me."
"Give us half an hour," Shelton said. "We are going to try an experiment—a desperate one I admit—but there seems nothing else to do in the circumstances. But, if you can get back by two o'clock to keep an eye upon things till the nurse I have written for arrives, I shall be greatly obliged."
Wilfrid yielded with as good grace as possible. He began to feel reckless and desperate. He paced up and down outside the house smoking one cigarette after another until Shelton appeared again.
"I don't think we need detain you any longer," the latter said. "Our operation has been partially successful and I am leaving Mr. Flower with my colleague at present. There has been serious brain trouble, and I very much doubt if my patient will ever be the same again. If you can manage to return by two o'clock for an hour, I think I shall then be able to dispense with your services."
Wilfrid waited to hear no more. He had already laid his plans. In the first place, he would call upon Fowler & Co., who had written regarding the bill, which threatened destruction to his home and future. He might perhaps obtain some information from them, though time was growing short and there remained barely a day and a half in which to satisfy these blood-suckers and breathe freely once more. A reference to the Post Office Directory gave Wilfrid the information he was in need of, and a hansom conveyed him to London Wall where the offices of Fowler & Co. were situated. The place was dingy, the office small and dirty. For a moment Wilfrid hesitated whether to go in or not, when he suddenly paused and looked into a shop-window as if fearful of being seen, for on the steps of the office stood Cotter in close conversation with a small, slight man, whose keen dark eyes bespoke a foreign origin. It was plain enough to Wilfrid now. Cotter had come down on business connected with the very security which was likely to be Wilfrid's ruin. The two men parted by and by and Wilfrid crossed the road, his mind fully made up what to do.