The Secrets of Dr. Taverner (24 page)

Surprised by her question, I blurted out the truth.

"I thought so," she said. "I am Scotch, and we have second
sight in our family, and last night I saw his wraith."

"You saw his wraith?" I exclaimed mystified.

She nodded her auburn head. "Just as clearly as I see you,"
she replied. "In fact he was so distinct that I thought he must
have been another doctor from the nursing home whom you had
sent over in your stead to see how my husband was getting on.

"I was sitting beside the bed with the lamp turned low, when
a movement caught my notice, and I looked up to see your friend
standing between me and the light. I was about to speak to him
when I noticed the extraordinary expression of his face, so
extraordinary that I stared at him and could find no word to say,
for he seemed to be absolutely gloating over me--or my
husband--I could not tell which.

"He was standing up straight, not his usual stoop." (`So you
have been watching him tool' I thought.) "And his face wore a
look of absolute triumph, as if he had at last won something for
which he had waited and worked for a very long time, and he
said to me quite slowly and distinctly: `It will be my turn next.' I
was just about to answer him and ask what he meant by his
extraordinary behaviour, when I suddenly found that I could see
the lamp through him, and before I had recovered from my
surprise he had vanished. I took it to mean that my husband
would live, but that he himself was dying."

I told her that from my knowledge of the two cases her
interpretation was likely to prove a true one, and we stood for
some minutes telling ghosts stories before she returned through
the iron gates.

Winnington was slowly pulling round from his attack, though
as yet unable to leave his bed. His attitude concerning Mrs.
Bellamy had undergone a curious change; he still asked me each
day if I had seen her at the pillar box and what she had had to
say for herself, but he showed no regret that he was not well
enough to accompany me thither and make her acquaintance;
instead, his attitude seemed to convey that he and she were
partners in some secret in which I had no share.

Although he was over the worst, his last attack had so pulled
him down that his disease had got the upper hand, and I saw that
it was unlikely that he would ever get out of bed again, so I
indulged his foible in regard to Mrs. Bellamy, feeling sure that
no harm could come of it. Her visits to the pillar box, what she
said, and what I said were duly reported for the benefit of the
sick man, whose eyes twinkled with a secret amusement while I
talked. As far as I could make out, for he did not give me his
confidence, he was biding his time till Bellamy took another
overdose, and I should have felt considerable anxiety as to what
he intended to do then had I not known that he was physically
incapable of crossing the room without assistance. Little harm
could come, therefore, from letting him daydream, so I did not
seek to fling cold water on his fantasies.

One night I was aroused by a tap at my door and found the
night nurse standing there. She asked me to come with her to
Winnington's room, for she had found him unconscious, and his
condition gave her anxiety. I went with her, and as she had said,
he was in a state of coma, pulse imperceptible, breathing almost
nonexistent; for a moment I was puzzled at the turn his illness
had taken, but as I stood looking down at him, I heard the faint
click in the throat followed by the long sibilant sigh that I had so
often heard when Taverner was leaving his body for one of those
strange psychic expeditions of his, and I guessed that Win-
nington was at the same game, for I knew that he had belonged
to Taverner's fraternity and had doubtless learnt many of its arts.

I sent the nurse away and settled myself to wait beside our
patient as I had often waited beside Taverner; not a little
anxious, for my colleague was away on his holiday, and I had
the responsibility of the nursing home on my shoulders; not that
that would have troubled me in the ordinary way, but occult
matters are beyond my ken, and I knew that Taverner always
considered that these psychic expeditions were not altogether
unaccompanied by risk.

I had not a long vigil, however; after about twenty minutes I
saw the trance condition pass into natural sleep, and having
made sure that the heart had taken up its beat again and that all
was well, I left my patient without rousing him and went back to
bed.

Next morning, as Winnington did not refer to the incident, I
did not either, but his ill-concealed elation showed that
something had transpired upon that midnight journey which had
pleased him mightily.

That evening when I went to the pillar box I found Mrs.
Bellamy there waiting for me. She began without preamble:

"Dr. Rhodes, did your tall friend die during the night?"

"No," I said, looking at her sharply. "In fact he is much better
this morning."

"I am glad of that," she said, "for I saw his wraith again last
night, and wondered if anything had happened to him."

"What time did you see him?" I enquired, a sudden suspicion
coming into my mind.

"I don't know," she replied; "I did not look at the clock, but it
was some time after midnight; I was wakened by something
touching my cheek very softly, and thought the cat must have
got into the room and jumped on the bed; I roused myself,
intending to put it out of the room, when I saw something
shadowy between me and the window; it moved to the foot of
the bed, and I felt a slight weight on my feet, more than that of a
cat, about what one would expect from a good-sized terrier, and
then I distinctly saw your friend sitting on the foot of the bed,
watching me. As I looked at him, he faded and disappeared, and
I could not be sure that I had not imagined him out of the folds
of the eiderdown, which was thrown back over the footboard, so
I thought I would ask you whether there was--anything to
account for what I saw."

"Winnington is not dead," I said. And not wishing to be
questioned any further in the matter, wished her good night
somewhat abruptly and was turning away when she called me
back.

"Dr. Rhodes," she said, "my husband has been in that heavy
stupor all day; do you think that anything ought to be done?"

"I will come and have a look at him if you like," I answered.
She thanked me, but said she did not want to call me in unless it
were essential, for her husband so bitterly resented any
interference.

"Have you got a butler or valet in the house, or is your
husband alone with you and the women servants?" I enquired,
for it seemed to me that a man who took drugs to the extent that
Bellamy did was not the safest, let alone the pleasantest
company for three or four women.

Mrs. Bellamy divined my thought and smiled sadly. "I am
used to it," she said. "I have always coped with him
single-handed."

"How long has he been taking drugs?" I asked.

"Ever since our marriage," she replied. "But how long before
that I cannot tell you."

I did not like to press her any further, for her face told me of
the tragedy of that existence, so I contented myself with saying:

"I hope you will let me know if you need help at any time.
Dr. Taverner and I do not practise in this district, but we would
gladly do what we could in an emergency."

As I went down the shrubbery path I thought over what she
had told me. Taking into consideration that Winnington had
been in a trance condition between two and two-thirty, I felt
certain that what she had seen was no phantasy of her
imagination. I was much puzzled how to act. It seemed to me
that Winnington was playing a dangerous game, dangerous to
himself, and to the unsuspecting woman on whom he was
practising, yet if I spoke to him on the matter, he would either
laugh at me or tell me to mind my own business, and if I warned
her, she would regard me as a lunatic. By refusing to admit their
existence, the world gives a very long start to those who practice
the occult arts.

I decided to leave matters alone until Taverner came back,
and therefore avoided deep waters when I paid my evening visits
to Winnington. As usual he enquired for news of Mrs. Bellamy,
and I told him that I had seen her, and casually mentioned that
her husband was bad again. In an instant I saw that I had made a
mistake and given Winnington information that he ought not to
have had, but I could not unsay my words, and took my leave of
him with an uneasy feeling that he was up to something that I
could not fathom. Very greatly did I wish for Taverner's
experience to take the responsibility off my shoulders, but he
was away in Scotland, and I had no reasonable grounds for
disturbing his well-earned holiday.

About an hour later, as I had finished my rounds and was
thinking of bed, the telephone bell rang. I answered, and heard
Mrs. Bellamy's voice at the end of the line.

"I wish you would come round, Dr. Rhodes," she said, "I am
very uneasy."

In a few minutes I was with her, and we stood together
looking at the unconscious man on the bed. He was a powerfully
built fellow of some thirty-five years of age, and before the drug
had undermined him, must have been a fine-looking man. His
condition appeared to be the same as before, and I asked Mrs.
Bellamy what it was that had rendered her so anxious, for I had
gathered from the tone of her voice over the phone that she was
frightened.

She beat about the bush for a minute or two, and then the
truth came out.

"I am afraid my nerve is going," she said. "But there seems to
be something or somebody in the room, and it was more than I
could stand alone; I simply had to send for you. Will you forgive
me for being so foolish and troubling you at this hour of the
night?"

I quite understood her feelings, for the strain of coping with a
drug maniac in that lonely place with no friends to help her--a
strain which I gathered, had gone on for years--was enough to
wear down anyone's courage.

"Don't think about that," I said. "I'm only too glad to be able
to give you any help I can; I quite understand your difficulties."

So, although her husband's condition gave no cause for
anxiety, I settled down to watch with her for a little while, and
do what I could to ease the strain of the intolerable burden.

We had not been sitting quietly in the dim light for very long
before I was aware of a curious feeling. Just as she had said, we
were not alone in the room. She saw my glance questing into the
corners, and smiled.

"You feel it too?" she said. "Do you see anything?"

"No," I answered, "I am not psychic, I wish I were; but I tell
you who will see it, if there is anything to be seen, and that is my
dog; he followed me here, and is curled up in the porch if he has
not gone home. With your permission I will fetch him up and see
what he makes of it,"

I ran down stairs and found the big Airedale, whose task it
was to guard the nursing home, patiently waiting on the mat.
Taking him into the bedroom, I introduced him to Mrs. Bellamy,
whom he received with favour, and then, leaving him to his own
devices, sat quietly watching what he would do. First he went
over to the bed and sniffed at the unconscious man, then he
wandered round the room as a dog will in a strange place, and
finally he settled down at our feet in front of the fire. Whatever
it was that had disturbed our equanimity he regarded as
unworthy of notice.