Her words unconsciously betrayed the unhappiness of her present position. Her recklessness with regard to the danger amounted almost to desperation; and she seemed to have fully made up her mind. So the Countess, with a feeling almost of awe, went to acquaint the Premier of her unselfish offer; she could not understand her cousin’s frame of mind in the least.
The Premier manifested not a flicker of surprise. He returned with his wife to accept the offer with formal gratitude, but Patricia could see that in reality he was much stirred. Moreover, it pleased her to know that he had confidence in her ability, that he could bring himself to trust her with his precious child. Realising the tremendous responsibility she had taken upon herself, she sat down with trembling hand to write to Mrs. Lowther for what she required. She could imagine what that good lady would say when she read the note, and the flutter there would ensue at Ivydene. Truly the situation was a curious one, though not so outrageous as Mrs. Lowther would make out. But she had long ago made up her mind that life was full of the strangest inconsistencies, and had therefore no compunction in adding one more to the list.
“I have ordered my chauffeur to get the car ready,” said the Premier, when she had finished the note. “Will you come with me, Holmes?”
“With pleasure.” The Cabinet Minister rose with alacrity. “You are going to the doctor, I suppose.”
“Yes; but I haven’t any faith in him—he is only a local practitioner. I want him to get hold of that specialist, though—I’ve forgotten the man’s name, but you know whom I mean. He cured the Crown-Princess of Germany from the same complaint, and it was stated at the time that he was the only doctor in the world who could have pulled her through. I am certain my little girl will be all right if she is in his hands, and it will be a great comfort for me to have him. But I can’t for the life of me think of his name. It was something beginning with a K.”
“I know!” exclaimed the Countess, glad to be able to come to the rescue. “It was Dr. Kesten.”
Moore gave a sigh of relief.
“That’s right,” he replied, almost cheerfully. “Kesten. He’s a splendid doctor, and a really good and conscientious man. I believe he lives in Portland Place.”
“Dr. Kesten?” repeated Mr. Lawson Holmes, in astonishment. “Good gracious, Moore, you can’t have him. He’s in Palestine—one of the victims of the Expulsion. Have you forgotten that Kesten is a Jew?”
Patricia looked up with a startled expression on her face, and exchanged a glance with Mr. Holmes. Here indeed was a curious dénouement: Moore was personally feeling the dire result of his own Bill.