“You’re not in the Cross Keys now. You are in the Burghley Hospital. The police brought you here, and sent for me.”
“The police!” I gasped, staring at those large round spectacles, whilst next moment I shifted my gaze upon Feng. “Look here Doctor Feng,” I said addressing him. “What does all this mean?”
“Well, Yelverton, it is all a puzzle to us. Why did you come here to Stamford and attempt to commit suicide?”
“What?” I cried in fierce indignation despite my weakness. “What are you saying? Suicide—why, such a thing never entered my mind!”
Feng’s face wore a strange, cynical smile. Suddenly I felt he was not my friend; for the moment I hated him.
“Well, the facts are all too apparent,” he said dubiously. “Whatever could have possessed you? You’ve had a very near squeak of it, I can tell you.”
“Yes, Mr. Yelverton,” said Thelma, bending over me till I saw her dear face peering eagerly into mine. “Yes. They thought you were dead. Why did you do it? Why? Tell us.”
“Do it?” I gasped astounded. “I did nothing. I—I only slept at the Cross Keys before going out to Duddington to see a client.”
“But why did you come to Stamford,” asked the girl, bending over me till I could feel her breath upon my cheek.
“No! I forbid any further questions,” exclaimed the bearded old doctor in the gold spectacles. “Enough! He must rest, Mrs. Audley.”