Again Dr. Thorp paused, again the vicar did not speak.
“I will tell you what they are. Our dear friend, in the course of his stay among us, wrote a stage play. It was given by him to Mr. Brandon, who gave it to Mr. Urban Meyer, the great American impresario, who has caused it to be played all over the world. And its success has been so extraordinary that it has been awarded the Nobel Prize for peace. But perhaps you know all this?”
The vicar shook his head.
“The whole story seems incredible,” the doctor went on. “But there it is. Further, I am informed that Dr. Kurt Christiansen, the great Scandinavian poet and thinker is coming here this afternoon to present an address on behalf of his Government. And he is to be accompanied by Mr. Sigismund Prosser, C.B., representing the Royal Academy of Literature, by Mr. Brandon, representing our own Government, and by a representative of the press.
“Of course, Mr. Perry-Hennington, I needn’t say that not only are the circumstances very unusual, they are also extremely difficult and embarrassing. The first intimation of this arrangement was from the Home Office, saying that out of regard for the activities of a neutral Power, our Government lent its sanction; and that if the patient was able to receive this act of homage it was felt to be in the public interest that he should do so. But at the same time it was pointed out that it would be a further public advantage if the distinguished visitor was not enlightened as to the nature of this establishment, or the circumstances in which the play had been written. Well, I mentioned the matter at once to our poor friend, and I was able to reply that, although the patient was extremely weak and his death perhaps a question of a few days, he would gladly receive the deputation.
“On the strength of that assurance the arrangements have gone forward. The deputation is due at Wellwood in rather less than half an hour, but I grieve to say that our poor dear, but evidently greatly gifted, friend, whose loss we shall all mourn deeply, is now losing consciousness.”
“Losing consciousness.” The vicar repeated the words as if he hardly understood them.
“Yes.” The doctor spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “It may or may not be a final phase. There may be a slight rally which will enable him to receive the honor about to be paid him. On the other hand it is almost too much to hope for now. Every kind of stimulant has been already administered, but the action of the heart is very feeble and I am sadly afraid that the deputation is making its journey in vain.”
“Am I too late?” gasped the vicar.
“Not to do your office, I hope. The patient may still be able to receive the sacrament.”