Blind Love

"Better not inquire, my lord," said the doctor. "What do you know about

the mysteries of medicine?"

"Why must I not inquire?"

Vimpany turned, closing the cupboard behind him. In his hand was a

glass full of the stuff he was about to administer.

"If you look in the glass," he said, "you will understand why."

Lord Harry obeyed. He saw a face ghastly in pallor: he shrank back and

fell into a chair, saying no more.

"Now, my good friend," said the doctor, "drink this and you'll be

better--ever so much better, ever so much better. Why--that is

brave----" he looked at him strangely, "How do you like the medicine?"

Oxbye shook his head as a man who has taken something nauseous. "I

don't like it at all," he said. "It doesn't taste like the other

physic."

"No I have been changing it--improving it."

The Dane shook his head again. "There's a pain in my throat," he said;

"it stings--it burns!"

"Patience--patience. It will pass away directly, and you will lie down

again and fall asleep comfortably."

Oxbye sank back upon the sofa. His eyes closed. Then he opened them

again, looking about him strangely, as one who is suffering some new

experience. Again he shook his head, again he closed his eyes, and he

opened them no more. He was asleep.

The doctor stood at his head watching gravely. Lord Harry, in his

chair, leaned forward, also watching, but with white face and trembling

hands.

As they watched, the man's head rolled a little to the side, turning

his face more towards the room. Then a curious and terrifying thing

happened. His mouth began slowly to fall open.

"Is he--is he--is he fainting?" Lord Harry whispered.

"No; he is asleep. Did you never see a man sleep with his mouth wide

open?"

They were silent for a space.

The doctor broke the silence.

"There's a good light this morning," he said carelessly. "I think I

will try a photograph. Stop! Let me tie up his mouth with a

handkerchief--so." The patient was not disturbed by the operation,

though the doctor tied up the handkerchief with vigour enough to awaken

a sound sleeper. "Now--we'll see if he looks like a post-mortem

portrait."

He went into the next room, and returned with his camera. In a few

minutes he had taken the picture, and was holding the glass negative

against the dark sleeve of his coat, so as to make it visible. "We

shall see how it looks," he said, "when it is printed. At present I

don't think it is good enough as an imitation of you to be sent to the

insurance offices. Nobody, I am afraid, who knew you, would ever take

this for a post-mortem portrait of Lord Harry. Well, we shall see.

Perhaps by-and-by--to-morrow--we may be able to take a better

photograph. Eh?" Lord Harry followed his movements, watching him

closely, but said nothing. His face remained pale and his fingers still

trembled. There was now no doubt at all in his mind, not only as to

Vimpany's intentions, but as to the crime itself. He dared not speak or

move.