“‘Good news, my friend,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Your brother lives, and there is cause for great hope.’”
“I dared not show my face. I buried it in my hands and whispered a curse. The monk placed his hand upon my bowed head, thinking, no doubt, that I was rejoicing, and breathed a prayer of thankfulness to Him who had seen fit to restore my brother. He led me to an iron cot around which several persons were gathered. ‘This is the injured man’s brother,’ I heard him say, and then as I uncovered my face, a darkness came before my eyes, and I felt myself reeling.
“When I came to myself, nobody was in the little cell but the good father, and a man who proved to be a physician. As I looked enquiringly at him he said: ‘You are all right now, my dear sir. The good news of your brother’s recovery came too suddenly. You have passed through exciting scenes to-day. No wonder they have affected you.’”
“The form on the cot lay still and without motion. Is that my brother? I asked. ‘Yes,’ replied the doctor, ‘and he will live, but I fear his brain has been injured. The skull is badly fractured, and I have been obliged to remove a small part of the brain. It may be weeks ere he is rational. He is blind, I see?’”
“Yes,” I answered mechanically, for I was hardly aware of the meaning of his last question. “His words ‘He will live’—and—‘It maybe weeks ere he is rational,’ were running through my head and repeating themselves again and again. Oh, to keep the knowledge of his being alive from Victoria until I knew how to act. The telegrams were by this time on the way, if not already received. I must either apprise her immediately of his recovery or keep it forever a secret, allowing her to believe him dead. But—she might insist upon his body being brought home, and in that case everything would be exposed. At that moment a horrible thought flashed upon me. I swear to you, doctor, that it had not occurred to me until then. Do you believe me?”
“I do,” solemnly answered the doctor, and the motionless woman sitting within the shadow of the window drapery, bowed her head as if she too had been implored to answer.
“I felt as if some unknown power controlled me,” continued Andrew. “I think from that hour I was never again quite myself. Evil whisperings sounded in my ears. My good angel came no more. My conscience slept. I looked at the doctor who was bending over Roger, his kindly face beaming with professional pride at having so skillfully saved a precious life.
“How soon can my brother be removed?” I asked.
“‘Not for some time, my dear sir,’ he answered. ‘Any undue excitement would result in immediate death. Perfect quiet is absolutely necessary. I shall be obliged to banish even you from this room for a few days. I have given him a strong opiate, and I shall keep him under the influence of it for at least a week.’ He will receive the best of care? I asked. The doctor bowed his head. ‘There are no better nurses in the world than these noble men whom you see about you. They have dedicated their lives to the wants of the needy, the sick and dying. They receive no monetary reward. They are not allowed to. The rich and poor are received on equal terms. A millionaire is treated no better than the strolling beggar. Each is given the best that there is to be had without a thought from these men of being rewarded on this earth.’”
“I listened to the doctor’s words, meanwhile perfecting the horrible daring plot working actively in my brain. I had a friend aboard the train named John Saxon, I said, resolving at once to plunge into the whirlpool of crime, from which once entered upon there could be no escape. He was a dark-skinned man like myself, about thirty years of age. He was accompanied by his wife to whom he had just been married. In fact, they were on their bridal tour. She was a beautiful woman with laughing blue eyes. I have seen nothing of them. Can it be that perhaps they, too, have met with death?”