§9
The young doctor was a little puzzled and rather offended by Sir Isaac’s relapse. He seemed to consider it incorrect and was on the whole disposed to blame Lady Harman. He might have had such a seizure, the young doctor said, later, but not now. He would be thrown back for some weeks, then he would begin to mend again and then whatever he said, whatever he did, Lady Harman must do nothing to contradict him. For a whole day Sir Isaac lay inert, in a cold sweat. He consented once to attempt eating, but sickness overcame him. He seemed so ill that all the young doctor’s reassurances could not convince Lady Harman that he would recover. Then suddenly towards evening his arrested vitality was flowing again, the young doctor ceased to be anxious for his own assertions, the patient could sit up against a pile of pillows and breathe and attend to affairs. There was only one affair he really seemed anxious to attend to. His first thought when he realized his returning strength was of his wife. But the young doctor would not let him talk that night.
Next morning he seemed still stronger. He was restless and at last demanded Lady Harman again.
This time the young doctor transmitted the message.
She came to him forthwith and found him, white-faced and unfamiliar-looking, his hands gripping the quilt and his eyes burning with hatred.
“You thought I’d forgotten,” was his greeting.
“Don’t argue,” signalled the doctor from the end of Sir Isaac’s bed.
“I’ve been thinking it out,” said Sir Isaac. “When you were thinking I was too ill to think.... I know better now.”
He sucked in his lips and then went on. “You’ve got to send for old Crappen,” he said. “I’m going to alter things. I had a plan. But that would have been letting you off too easy. See? So—you send for old Crappen.”
“What do you mean to do?”