The other laid a hand on himself, and in the colourless voice of the expert, said: "Old age—that's her trouble, so far as I can see."
He paused, foreseeing the ferocious look which swept into the repulsive face, and the clenching of the big hands. Then in a soothing, reflective kind of voice he added:
"Senile decay—you know all about that. Well, now, it happens sometimes —not often, but it does happen—that a very young person for some cause or another suffers from senile decay. Some terrible leakage of youth occurs. It has been cured, though, and I've cured one or two cases myself."
He was almost prevaricating—but in a good cause. "Mrs. Mazarine's is a case which can be cured, I think," he continued. "As you've remarked, Mr. Mazarine,"—his voice was now persuasive,—"here is fine air, and a good, comfortable home—"
Suddenly he broke off, and as though in innocent inquiry said: "Now, has she too much to do? Has she sufficient help in the house for one so young?"
"She doesn't do more than's good for her," answered the old man, "and there's the half-breed hired critter—you've seen her—and Li Choo, a Chinaman, too. That ought to be enough," he added scornfully.
The Young Doctor seemed to reflect, and his face became urbane, because he saw he must proceed warily, if he was to be of service to his new patient.
"Yes," he said emphatically, "she appears to have help enough. I must think over her case and see her again to-morrow."
The old man's look suddenly darkened. "Ain't she better:"' he asked.
"She's not so much better that there's no danger of her being worse," the
Young Doctor replied decisively. "I certainly must see her to-morrow."