He allowed Colin to lead him up the stairs, and in a few minutes Neeburg arrived and went after him.
In half an hour the two men came down together. “We’ve put him to bed, Mrs. Currey,” said Neeburg, “with a sleeping-draught. He’ll probably sleep twelve hours or so. That’s the best thing for him at present. He may wake up with his mind quite clear. It’s a case of mental aphasia, due to nerve-strain. I’ve given him the clearest warnings time after time. I’m very sorry, but he has brought it on himself.”
“He had made up his mind to go to Le Touquet next week,” said Claudia. She looked at Colin. “You were going with him, were you not?”
“He asked me, and I was trying to make arrangements. Can he go, doctor, as soon as he recovers a little?”
“The sooner the better. I’m glad you’re going with him. Keep him out in the open all day, and don’t let him talk or think about his work. Let him play golf, and keep him out of doors until he falls asleep directly he gets into bed. No stimulants whatever. Has he been sleeping badly lately, Mrs. Currey?”
“Yes, he told me he seldom got to sleep till late in the morning.”
“Madness! Sheer madness to neglect such warnings. Paton, I’ll have a talk with you before he goes. How did you find him?”
“I got Carey Image to go the rounds of the hospitals in case it was an accident, and I went myself to all the police-stations. As a matter of fact, someone had just recognized him as I arrived at Bow Street. As far as I can make out, he took a stiff hot whiskey at the club before leaving—he told the waiter he thought he had a cold coming on—and went out into the night air. Owing to the taxi strike there were no cabs about, and after waiting a few minutes, Gilbert said he would walk.”
“And the fresh air on top of the hot whiskey finished him,” commented Neeburg. “Was he very violent?”