"H'm!" said Scott. It was an expression he used often, and with varying meaning. Gardiner smoked in silence. Denis, who had read to the end of the inquest, propped his tall, immaculate person against a chimney-stack and watched them both. When he did not snap, the little doctor expressed himself like an educated man, and his voice was pure in quality. These things were in his favor.
"Has she still got that idea in her head about me?" asked Gardiner.
"How do I know, man? Do you suppose I talk to my patients about things of that kind? She hasn't mentioned you at all, so far as I know. Lies still, says nothing, asks no questions—brooding over that scamp, I suppose. Well, she's getting better, and that's all that concerns me."
"Yes," said Gardiner. He looked very tired. "If you see a chance, give her my regrets and condolences and all that, will you? You might pitch it pretty strong. I shan't be here to do it myself."
"You won't? Where are you going?"
"Oh, I've sold the place, and I'm clearing out. Didn't you know? I was going in any case at the end of the month, and I've put it forward a bit, to give my successor a chance. All this fuss is very bad for trade. It's emptied the house. It'll fill up again quicker if I'm out of it."
"Where are you going yourself, hey?"
"To the most beautiful place in the Ardennes, which I design to run as a sanatorium—no, not a common open-air shop, but healthful bracing breezes for the jaded, don't you know? Very great it's going to be. I invite you to come out and pay me a visit."
"H'm! do you think I have nothing to do but run about the Continent enjoying myself?"
"Oh, I thought you might combine business with pleasure—see the place, and then recommend it to your patients. I should be charmed to receive them."