LAVERICK's PARTNER FLEES
The doctor, a grave, incurious person, arrived within a few minutes to find Morrison already conscious but absolutely exhausted. He felt his patient's pulse, prescribed a draught, and followed Laverick. down into the sitting room.
"An ordinary case of nervous exhaustion," he pronounced. "The patient appears to have had a very severe shock lately. He will be all right with proper diet and treatment, and a complete rest. Iwill call again to-morrow."He accepted the fee which Laverick slipped into his hand, and took his departure. Once more Laverick was alone with the girl, who had followed them downstairs.
"There is nothing to be alarmed at, you see," he remarked.
"It is not his health which frightens me. I am sure - I am quite sure that he has something upon his mind. Did he tell you nothing?""Nothing at all," Laverick answered, with an inward sense of thankfulness. "To tell you the truth, though, I am afraid you are right and that he did get into some sort of trouble last night. He was just about to tell me something when he fainted."Upstairs they could hear him moaning. The girl listened with pitiful face.
"What am I to do?" she asked. "I cannot leave him like this, and if I am not at the theatre in twenty minutes, I shall be fined.""The theatre?" Laverick repeated.
She nodded.
"I am on the stage," she said, - "only a chorus girl at the Universal, worse luck. Still, they don't allow us to stay away, and I can't afford to lose my place.""Do you mean to say that you have been keeping yourself here, then?"Laverick asked bluntly.
"Of course," she answered. "I do not like to be a burden on any one, and after all, you see, Arthur and I are really not related at all. He has always told me, too, that times have been so bad lately."Laverick was on the point of telling her that bad though they had been Arthur Morrison had never drawn less than fifteen hundred a year, but he checked himself. It was not his business to interfere.
"I think," he said, "that your brother ought to have provided for you. He could have done so with very little effort.""But what am I to do now?" she asked him. "If I am absent, I shall lose my place."Laverick thought for a moment.
"If you went round there and told them," he suggested, "would that make any difference? I could stay until you came back.""Do you mind?" she asked eagerly. "It would be so kind of you.""Not at all," he answered. "Perhaps you would be good enough to bring a taxicab back, and I could take it on to my rooms. Take one from here, if you can find it. There are always some at the corner.""I'd love to," she answered. "I must run upstairs and get my hat and coat."He watched her go up on tiptoe for fear of disturbing her brother.
Her feet seemed almost unearthly in the lightness of their pressure.
Not a board creaked. She seemed to float down to him in a most becoming little hat but a shockingly shabby jacket, of whose deficiencies she seemed wholly unaware. Her lips were parted once more in a smile.
"He is fast asleep and breathing quite regularly," she announced.
"It is nice of you to stay."
He looked at her almost jealously.
"Do you know," he said, "you ought not to go about alone?"She laughed, softly but heartily.
"Have you any idea how old I am?"
"I took you for fourteen when I came inside," he answered.
"Afterwards I thought you might be sixteen. Later on, it seemed to me possible that you were eighteen. I am absolutely certain that you are not more than nineteen.""That shows how little you know about it. I am twenty, and I am quite used to going about alone. Will you sit upstairs or here?
I am so sorry that I have nothing to offer you.""Thanks, I need nothing. I think I will sit upstairs in case he wakes."She nodded and stole out, closing the door behind her noiselessly.
Laverick watched her from the window until she was out of sight, moving without any appearance of haste, yet with an incredible swiftness. When she had turned the corner, he went slowly upstairs and into the room where Morrison still lay asleep. He drew a chair to the bedside and leaning forward opened out the evening paper. The events of the last hour or so had completely blotted out from his mind, for the time being, his own expedition into the world of tragical happenings. He glanced at the sleeping man, then opened his paper. There was very little fresh news except that this time the fact was mentioned that upon the body of the murdered man was discovered a sum larger than was at first supposed. It seemed doubtful, therefore, whether robbery, after all, was the motive of the crime, especially as it took place in a neighborhood which was by no means infested with criminals. There was a suggestion of political motive, a reference to the "Black Hand," concerning whose doings the papers had been full since the murder of a well-known detective a few weeks ago. But apart from this there was nothing fresh.
Laverick folded up the paper and leaned back in his chair. The strain of the last twenty-four hours was beginning to tell even upon his robust constitution. The atmosphere of the room, too, was close.
He leaned back in his chair and was suddenly weary. Perhaps he dozed. At any rate, the whisper which called him back to realization of where he was, came to him so unexpectedly that he sat up with a sudden start.
Morrison's eyes were open, he had raised himself on his elbow, his lips were parted. His manner was quieter, but there were black lines deep engraven under his eyes, in which there still shone something of that haunting fear.
"Laverick!" he repeated hoarsely.
Laverick, fully awakened now, leaned towards him.
"Hullo," he said, "are you feeling more like yourself?"Morrison nodded.
"Yes," he admitted, "I am feeling - better. How did you come here?
I can't remember anything."
