Blind Love

His nose told him what words might have tried vainly to say: he

swallowed the mixture. "If I lose the patient," he muttered oracularly,

"I lose the money." His resolute wife dragged him out of his chair. The

second door in the dining-room led into an empty bed-chamber. With her

help, he got into the room, and dropped on the bed.

Mrs. Vimpany consulted her watch.

On many a former occasion she had learnt what interval of repose was

required, before the sobering influence of the mixture could

successfully assert itself. For the present, she had only to return to

the other room. The waiter presented himself, asking if there was

anything he could do for her. Familiar with the defective side of her

husband's character, he understood what it meant when she pointed to

the bedroom door. "The old story, ma'am," he said, with an air of

respectful sympathy. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"

Mrs. Vimpany accepted the tea, and enjoyed it thoughtfully.

She had two objects in view--to be revenged on Mountjoy, and to find a

way of forcing him to leave the town before he could communicate his

discoveries to Iris. How to reach these separate ends, by one and the

same means, was still the problem which she was trying to solve, when

the doctor's coarse voice was audible, calling for somebody to come to

him.

If his head was only clear enough, by this time, to understand the

questions which she meant to put, his answers might suggest the idea of

which she was in search. Rising with alacrity, Mrs. Vimpany returned to

the bed-chamber.

"You miserable creature," she began, "are you sober now?"

"I'm as sober as you are."

"Do you know," she went on, "why Mr. Mountjoy asked you to dine with

him?"

"Because he's my friend."

"He is your worst enemy. Hold your tongue! I'll explain what I mean

directly. Rouse your memory, if you have got a memory left. I want to

know what you and Mr. Mountjoy talked about after dinner."

He stared at her helplessly. She tried to find her way to his

recollection by making suggestive inquiries. It was useless; he only

complained of being thirsty. His wife lost her self-control. She was

too furiously angry with him to be able to remain in the room.

Recovering her composure when she was alone, she sent for soda-water

and brandy. Her one chance of making him useful was to humour his vile

temper; she waited on him herself.