The Holladay Case Part 14
"I have brought the money you asked for," and he handed her the package.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"Will you verify the amount?"
"Oh, no; that is not necessary."
"I have a receipt here," and he produced it and his fountain-pen.
"Please sign it."
She took the pen with trembling fingers, laid the receipt upon her chair-arm without reading, and signed her name with a somewhat painful slowness. Then she leaned back with a sigh of relief, and buried her face in her hands. Mr. Royce placed the receipt in his pocket book, and stopped, hesitating. But the maid had opened the door and was awaiting us. Her mistress made no sign; there was no excuse to linger.
We turned and followed the maid.
"Miss Holladay seems very ill," said Mr. Royce, in a voice somewhat tremulous, as she paused before us in the lower hall.
"Yes, sir; ver' ill."
Again the voice! I took advantage of the chance to look at her intently. Her hair was turning gray, certainly; her face was seamed with lines which only care and poverty could have graven there; and yet, beneath it all, I fancied I could detect a faded but living likeness to Hiram Holladay's daughter. I looked again--it was faint, uncertain--perhaps my nerves were overwrought and were deceiving me.
For how could such a likeness possibly exist?
"She has a physician, of course?" asked my companion.
"Oh, yes, sir."
"He has advised rest and quiet?"
"Yes, sir."
"When do you leave for the country?"
"To-morrow or the next day after that, I think, sir."
He turned to the door and then paused, hesitating. He opened his lips to say something more--his anxiety was clamoring for utterance--then he changed his mind and stepped outside as she held the door open.
"Good-day," he said, with stern repression. "I wish her a pleasant journey."
The door closed after us, and we went down the steps.
"Jenkinson's the family doctor," he said. "Let's drive around there, and find out how really ill Miss Holladay is. I'm worried about her, Lester."
"That's a good idea," I agreed, and gave the driver the address.
Jenkinson was in his office, and received us at once.
"Doctor Jenkinson," began our junior, without preamble, "I am John Royce, of Graham & Royce. You know, I suppose, that we are the legal advisers of Miss Frances Holladay."
"Yes," answered Jenkinson. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Royce."
"In consequence, we're naturally interested in her welfare and all that concerns her, and I called to ask you for some definite details of her condition."
"Her condition? I don't quite understand."
"We should like to know, doctor, just how ill she is."
"Ill!" repeated Jenkinson, in evident surprise. "But is she ill?"
"She's your patient, isn't she? I thought you were the family doctor."
"So I am," a.s.sented the other. "But I haven't seen Miss Holladay for ten days or two weeks. At that time, she seemed quite well--a little nervous, perhaps, and worried, but certainly not requiring medical attention. She has always been unusually robust."
Mr. Royce stopped, perplexed; as for me, my head was in a whirl again.
"I'll tell you the story," he said at last. "I should like the benefit of your advice;" and he recounted rapidly the facts of Miss Holladay's illness, in so far as he knew them, ending with an account of our recent visit, and the statement of the maid that her mistress was under a doctor's care. Jenkinson heard him to the end without interrupting, but he was plainly puzzled and annoyed.
"And you say she looked very ill?" he asked.
"Oh, very ill, sir; alarmingly ill, to my unpracticed eyes. She seemed thin and worn--she could scarcely talk--she had such a cough--I hardly knew her."
Again the doctor paused to consider. He was a very famous doctor, with many very famous patients, and I could see that this case piqued him--that another physician should have been preferred!
"Of course, Mr. Royce," he said finally, "Miss Holladay was perfectly free to choose another physician, if she thought best."
"But would you have thought it probable?" queried our junior.
"Ten minutes ago, I should have thought it extremely improbable,"
answered the doctor emphatically. "Still, women are sometimes erratic, as we doctors know to our sorrow."
Mr. Royce hesitated, and then took the bull by the horns.
"Doctor Jenkinson," he began earnestly, "don't you think it would be wise to see Miss Holladay--you know how her father trusted you, and relied on you--and a.s.sure yourself that she's in good hands? I confess, I don't know what to think, but I fear some danger is hanging over her. Perhaps she may even have fallen into the hands of the faith-curists."
Jenkinson smiled.
"The advice to seek rest and quiet seems sane enough," he said, "and utterly unlike any that a faith-curist would give."
"But still, if you could see for yourself," persisted Mr. Royce.
The doctor hesitated, drumming with his fingers upon the arm of his chair.
"Such a course would be somewhat unprofessional," he said at last.
"Still, I might call in a merely social way. My interest in the family would, I think, excuse me."
Mr. Royce's face brightened, and he caught the doctor's hand.
"Thank you, sir," he said warmly. "It will lift a great anxiety from the firm, and, I may add, from me, personally."
The doctor laughed good-naturedly.
"I knew that, of course," he said. "We doctors hear all the gossip going. I might add that I was glad to hear this bit. If you'll wait for me here, I'll go at once."