The Five Knots

by Fred M. White

"Oh, no, he would not," Wilfrid said bitterly. "That is not the way in which he works, but he has lost no time in trying to ruin me. He lost no time in getting into communication with the people from whom I borrowed money to buy my practice. He bought the security I gave, and if the money is not forthcoming to-morrow, I shall be a ruined man without a house over my head. I daresay you wonder why I tell you this, but sooner or later you are bound to know, and if it happens that somebody else——"

What more Wilfrid might have said was cut short by a sudden moan from the bedroom. Without another word Wilfrid turned and Beatrice crept silently down the stairs.

It was only for a moment or two, however, and the patient lapsed into the absent stage again. The minutes were creeping along; the nurse would be here soon and Wilfrid would be glad to turn his back upon that house of mystery. His mind was full of his own troubles; he found his thoughts wandering to the desk in the dressing-room where he had seen Cotter arranging those papers. Then it suddenly struck him that the security he was in search of was actually within his grasp. As far as he could see, Cotter had not even turned the key in the desk. Overwhelming curiosity drew Wilfrid from his seat and impelled his lingering footsteps towards the dressing-room.

Here was the desk with the key still in it. There was the heap of papers in the top drawer. A long, pale blue slip with a red stamp in the corner caught his eye. There was no occasion for him to ask what it was. He could see his own bold handwriting across it. Here was the precious document that meant so much to him, so little for the man in the next room. He had only to tear it in two and throw the fragments in the fire and he would be free from all anxiety for ever. It was only for a moment, but that moment was long enough, for the dressing-room door stood open and the shadow of Beatrice blocked the light.

"The nurse is here," she said coldly. Her eyes were fixed upon the paper which Wilfrid held in his hand. "I thought I would bring her this way. And now, Dr. Mercer, don't you think that we shall be able to dispense with your services?"

CHAPTER XXXI

A QUESTION OF HONOUR

The thing was done beyond recall. Wilfrid had only to look into the face of his companion to see that everything seemed plain to her as an open book. He had been rummaging amongst her uncle's papers for the compromising document. He had it in his hand at that moment.

What would he have done with it had Beatrice not appeared? Would he have yielded to temptation or not? For the life of him Wilfrid could not say. He tried to think that he would have put the matter behind him. But he had not done so; he had not even attempted to do so. For a second or two he had even tried to justify himself in a course of action which would have been distinctly dishonourable. If he had gone down on his knees and made a full confession to Beatrice he could have told her no more than she already knew.

He glanced into her face, eager to see if there was any sympathy in her eyes. But Beatrice's face was stern and set. There was a compression of her lips that he had not noticed before. He could not know how deeply wounded and disappointed she was. She could not add anything to the humiliation which he was then suffering.