“Do you mean that he can speak, and see, and hear, but pretends he can’t?” demanded Mabel.
“No, no. He can’t see—because of the bandage over his eyes, if for no other reason—and he can’t speak intelligibly. But he can hear, and he can answer questions by moving his right hand for yes, and his left for no. That’s how I found it all out.”
“And he has pretended not to be able to hear a sound! Why, I might have said anything to him—anything! Happily I haven’t,” catching the doctor’s eye, “for Colonel Slaney told me so particularly not to excite him. But what do you want me to do?”
“To please yourself. Either make him understand that you mean to stick to him, or simply stay away. It’ll be better for him.”
“Which have you told him you expect I shall do?” asked Mabel, turning upon him. The doctor looked guilty.
“I’d have had the greatest pleasure in preparing the poor fellow’s mind, if I’d known,” he confessed; “but for the life of me I couldn’t decide which you’d be likely to do.”
“Thanks for your high opinion of me,” said Mabel, entering the room with a short laugh. “Perhaps you will kindly notice that I am putting an end to your doubts at this moment.”
Such was the confused condition of Dr Tighe’s mind that he did not at first realise the bearing of this sentence. Indeed, it was not until he was busy in his improvised surgery half-an-hour later that he perceived its full import, and made the bottles ring again with the shout of joy which greeted his discovery. As for Mabel, she sat down in her usual place beside the bed, and bent over the patient.
“Fitz,” she said very distinctly, “I want to speak to you. You needn’t pretend you can’t hear, for I know Dr Tighe has been talking to you. Raise your right hand when you mean yes, and your left when you mean no.”
No movement of any kind followed, but Mabel was not to be daunted.