there was no occasion for ethel hargrave to be afraid. there had been no suggestion of violence on the part of her patient, but yet, in some unaccountable way, she felt her heart sinking and her nerves throbbing as if the shadow of a great disgrace was hanging over her. she had ceased to care for arnold rent; indeed, she was almost grateful to him for showing her that she had made a mistake in her estimate of his character. all these years she had lived so quiet a life, she had seen so few men, that she had come to regard arnold rent as typical of what was best in his sex. in this she had been encouraged by mrs. rent's pride and delight in the progress of her son. ethel thought she was fortunate above women, inasmuch as she would some day become the wife of arnold rent. the whole thing had been a tacit understanding, and at first when disillusion came the pain had been smart and keen.
but this was due to wounded vanity, though ethel did not know it. it was her first contact with the meaner side of human nature and it left its mark. despite the fact that ethel had lived so long alone, she had read a great deal and knew much of the world and its ways. it did not need anyone to teach her that arnold rent had behaved foolishly in the matter of mrs. charlock, and since then one or two little things had opened ethel's eyes.
she was glad the disclosure had come before it was too late. she could only regard arnold rent in the light of a friend, and found herself contrasting him with john charlock, much to his detriment.
and now she could not rid herself of the idea that there was something more than mere hallucination here. the blow which rent had received would be hardly accountable for his acting in this fashion. undoubtedly, the man had something desperate on his mind. he had every appearance of it in the uneasy, haunted expression of his face and the gleam of his eyes. something was fearfully wrong, and ethel felt her heart sink as she watched the moody, disconsolate figure seated in the chair opposite her. what it was he had to conceal she did not know, nor could she manage, with all the patience at her command, to find out what was amiss.
"is there nothing i can do for you?" she asked.
rent shook his head sulkily. the mass of matter which he had removed from the safe lay on the floor, but he took no notice of it. the cloud had fallen again.
"don't bother," he said. "it has all gone again. there was something i had to do and i can't for the life of me think what it was. i had to go somewhere. there was a little thing——"
he broke off abruptly and smote his forehead passionately with his hand. ethel watched him curiously.
"surely there is some way i can help you," she said.
"no, there isn't. you know nothing about it. besides, in any case, it is not a woman's work. swift will be all right. but, then, you can't trust swift, because you never know when he is going to give way to one of his drunken bouts. the most useful man i know is malcolm grey. he can manage it."
rent was speaking rationally enough. it was only the uneasy gleam in his eyes which proved to ethel that he was still wandering. but she caught at the suggestion.
"would you like to see mr. grey?" she asked. "i understand that he is here; he has called to ask about you once or twice. he is staying with a friend who has a yacht in the harbour."
"that's the idea," rent said eagerly. "send for grey at once. well, why don't you go and do it? why do you sit looking at me in that extraordinary way?"
rent's voice was harsh and hard and his face wore an angry look. ethel rose from her seat, but before she could leave the room rent sprang up and detained her.
"you are not to go," he whispered. "do you hear me? you are to stay where you are. what do you mean by making such a suggestion to me? do you want to get rid of me? why, if grey so much as guessed, i should never know a moment's peace again."
it was hard to tell what to do in the circumstances, and ethel could only regard her companion with astonishment. he dropped back in his seat and the same sullen silence fell over him. there was nothing to do but to humour the patient, and, to her great relief, a little later ethel saw that he was asleep. she slipped from the room into that of mrs. rent, which adjoined, but that lady lay on her bed without sign or motion. no doubt she was asleep also. it was with a sensation of relief that ethel heard the doctor coming up the stairs presently. as his quick glance took in the state of affairs, he crept quietly from the room and beckoned to ethel to follow him.
"i am glad to see that," he said. "whatever you do, don't disturb him. the more sleep he has the better."
"mrs. rent is sleeping, too," ethel said.
"that is right," the doctor murmured. "i am sure she wants it. if we could only induce a sleep like this on the part of the patient oftener he would get better much the sooner. it is impossible for him to recover so long as he keeps on worrying his brain as he does. and now, at the risk of being impertinent, i am going to ask a personal question. i understand you have known mr. rent for a long time. is that so?"
"i have known him all my life," ethel said.
"then you'll be able to tell me what i want to know. of course, i recognise that he is an exceedingly clever man and that he has a very active and intelligent mind. i am told that he sits up half the night working out problems and fascinating experiments. these men make the most difficult patients when there is brain trouble. tell me, do you think mr. rent has anything weighing heavily on his mind?"
ethel hesitated. she was startled to find the doctor's train of thought very like her own. he put the question with a gravity which impressed her. but he was the doctor in charge of the case and had every right to the information of which he was in search.
"i am afraid so," she said. "it has been dawning upon me for the last day or two that there is something very wrong. arnold rent seems to be full of the idea that he has left some task unfinished. he is dreadfully afraid lest somebody should find out certain information which his illness prevented him from concealing. it may be that he has hit upon a new invention—something startling in the way of a discovery. on the other hand, it may be that he has done something to be ashamed of and does not want it known. i was going to ask his assistant, mr. swift, about the matter, but mr. rent never trusts him with anything of importance, because the latter has a weakness for drink. i feel pretty sure that the secret has something to do with a scientific discovery, because, a few minutes since, your patient was anxious to send for mr. malcolm grey, a brother scientist. then he suddenly changed his mind and told me to do nothing of the kind. i can't make it out at all."
the doctor looked grave.
"it is a most puzzling case," he said. "the best thing to do is to fall in with every wish the patient expresses. never mind if he changes his opinion the next moment; humour him to the top of his bent, and don't disturb him in any case. the same remark applies to mrs. rent. let the poor lady have all the rest she can get. i will look in again later."
the time passed slowly. it was growing late, and there was no sign of mrs. rent. ethel sat in the sick-room waiting the advent of the doctor, who did not come, though it was now past eleven o'clock. probably he had been detained somewhere. but, since rent was slumbering in his chair, it did not matter. he moved uneasily in his sleep once or twice, and ethel caught the name of grey on his lips. unconscious as he was, his mind was working away at the problem which puzzled him so sorely. then ethel closed her own eyes and for a little while was oblivious to all that was going on. when she came to herself she heard a clock striking the half-hour after eleven, so that she knew she had been asleep some five-and-twenty minutes. she wondered if her patient was awake, but was surprised to see that he was no longer seated in the chair. possibly he had gone back to bed.
but the bed was empty. the door was closed and locked on the inside. ethel rubbed her eyes in astonishment. she was not yet conscious of the full extent of the catastrophe. then she roused herself with an effort. she began putting the pieces together in her mind. the door was locked on the inside, and yet arnold rent had vanished. where had he gone to, and how had he contrived to obliterate himself? the window was open, and, as ethel looked out, she saw it was a short drop to the garden. beyond question, arnold rent had disappeared in that way. it was the kind of furtive exit a man with a diseased brain and perturbed mind would make. his clouded intellect had pointed to secrecy. he had deemed it prudent not to show himself in the house. but where had he gone? and why?
for the moment ethel stood thinking the puzzle out. then she unlocked the door and walked quietly into mrs. rent's room. the latter still lay on her bed fast asleep.
