now；〃 the doctor assured him。
〃The third day；〃 Mr。 Dunster muttered。 〃Very well。〃
He wrote out three telegrams and passed them over。
〃One；〃 he said； 〃is to New York； one to The Hague； and one to London。
There was plenty of money in my pocket。 Perhaps you will find it
and pay for these。〃
〃Is there anything more；〃 the doctor asked； 〃that can be done for
your comfort？〃
〃Nothing at present；〃 Mr。 Dunster replied。 〃My head aches now； but
I think that I shall want to leave before three days are up。 Are
you the doctor in the neighbourhood？〃
Sarson shook his head。
〃I am physician to Mr。 Fentolin's household；〃 he answered quietly。
〃I live here。 Mr。 Fentolin is himself somewhat of an invalid and
requires constant medical attention。〃
Mr。 Dunster contemplated the speaker steadfastly。
〃You will forgive me；〃 he said。 〃I am an American and I am used to
plain speech。 I am quite unused to being attended by strange
doctors。 I understand that you are not in general practice now。
Might I ask if you are fully qualified？〃
〃I am an M。D。 of London；〃 the doctor replied。 〃You can make
yourself quite easy as to my qualifications。 It would not suit
Mr。 Fentolin's purpose to entrust himself to the care of any one
without a reputation。〃
He left the room； and Mr。 Dunster closed his eyes。 His slumbers；
however； were not altogether peaceful ones。 All the time there
seemed to be a hammering inside his head； and from somewhere back
in his obscured memory the name of Fentolin seemed to be continually
asserting itself。 From somewhere or other； the amazing sense which
sometimes gives warning of danger to men of adventure； seemed to
have opened its feelers。 He rested because he was exhausted； but
even in his sleep he was ill at ease。
The doctor； with the telegrams in his hand； made his way down a
splendid staircase； past the long picture gallery where masterpieces
of Van Dyck and Rubens frowned and leered down upon him； descended
the final stretch of broad oak stairs； crossed the hail； and entered
his master's rooms。 Mr。 Fentolin was sitting before the open window；
an easel in front of him； a palette in his left hand； painting with
deft； swift touches。
〃Ah！〃 he exclaimed； without looking around； 〃it is my friend the
doctor； my friend Sarson； M。D。 of London； L。R。C。P。 and all the
rest of it。 He brings with him the odour of the sick room。 For a
moment or two； just for a moment； dear friend； do not disturb me。
Do not bring any alien thoughts into my brain。 I am absorbed； you
see … absorbed。 It is a strange problem of colour； this。〃
He was silent for several moments； glancing repeatedly out of the
window and back to his canvas； painting all the time with swift and
delicate precision。
〃Meekins； who stands behind my chair；〃 Mr。 Fentolin continued； 〃even
Meekins is entranced。 He has a soul； my friend Sarson； although you
might not think it。 He； too； sees sometimes the colour in the skies；
the glitter upon the sands； the clear； sweet purity of those long
stretches of virgin water。 Meekins； I believe； has a soul； only he
likes better to see these things grow under his master's touch than
to wander about and solve their riddles for himself。〃
The man remained perfectly immovable。 Not a feature twitched。 Yet
it was a fact that； although he stood where Mr。 Fentolin could not
possibly observe him； he never removed his gaze from the canvas。
〃You see； my medical friend； that there has been a great tide in the
night； following upon the flood？ Even our small landmarks are
shifted。 Soon； in my little carriage； I shall ride down to the
Tower。 I shall sit there； and I shall watch the sea。 I think that
this evening； with the turn of the tide； the spray may reach even
to my windows there。 I shall paint again。 There is always
something fresh in the sea； you know … always something fresh in
the sea。 Like a human face … angry or pleased； sullen or joyful。
Some people like to paint the sea at its calmest and most beautiful。
Some people like to see happy faces around them。 It is not every
one who appreciates the other things。 It is not quite like that
with me； eh； Sarson？〃
His hand fell to his side。 Momentarily he had finished his work。
He turned around and eyed the doctor； who stood in taciturn silence。
〃Answer。 Answer me；〃 he insisted。
The doctor's gloomy face seemed darker still。
〃You have spoken the truth； Mr。 Fentolin；〃 he admitted。 〃You are
not one of the vulgar herd who love to consort with pleasure and
happiness。 You are one of those who understand the beauty of
unhappiness … in others；〃 he added； with faint emphasis。
Mr。 Fentolin smiled。 His face became almost like the face of one
of those angels of the great Italian master。
〃How well you know me！〃 he murmured。 〃My humble effort； Doctor
… how do you like it？〃
The doctor bent over the canvas。
〃I know nothing about art；〃 he said； a little roughly。 〃Your work
seems to me clever … a little grotesque； perhaps； a little straining
after the hard； plain things which threaten。 Nothing of the
idealist in your work； Mr。 Fentolin。〃
Mr。 Fentolin studied the canvas himself for a moment。
〃A clever man； Sarson；〃 he remarked coolly； 〃but no courtier。 Never
mind； my work pleases me。 It gives me a passing sensation of
happiness。 Now； what about our patient？〃
〃He recovers；〃 the doctor pronounced。 〃From my short examination；
I should say that he had the constitution of an ox。 I have told
him that he will be up in three days。 As a matter of fact； he will
be able； if he wants to； to walk out of the house to…morrow。〃
Mr。 Fentolin shook his head。
〃We cannot spare him quite so soon；〃 he declared。 〃We must avail
ourselves of this wonderful chance afforded us by my brilliant young
nephew。 We must keep him with us for a little time。 What is it
that you have in your hands； Doctor？ Telegrams； I think。 Let me
look at them。〃
The doctor held them out。 Mr。 Fentolin took them eagerly between
his thin； delicate fingers。 Suddenly his face darkened； and became
like the face of a spoilt and angry child。
〃Cipher！〃 he exclaimed furiously。 〃A cipher which he knows so well
as to remember it； too！ Never mind； it will be easy to decode。 It
will amuse me during the afternoon。 Very good； Sarson。 I will take
charge of these。〃
〃You do not wish anything dispatched？〃
〃Nothing at present；〃 Mr。 Fentolin sighed。 〃It will be well； I
think； for the poor man to remain undisturbed by any communications
from his friends。 Is he restless at all？〃
〃He wants to get on with his journey。〃
〃We shall see；〃 Mr。 Fentolin remarked。 〃Now feel my pulse； Sarson。
How am I this morning？〃
The doctor held the thin wrist for a moment between his fingers；
and let it go。
〃In perfect health； as usual；〃 he announced grimly。
〃Ah； but you cannot be sure！〃 Mr。 Fentolin protested。 〃My tongue；
if you please。〃
He put it out。
〃Excellent！〃
〃We must make quite certain；〃 Mr。 Fentolin continued。 〃There are
so many people who would miss me。 My place in the world would not
be easily filed。 Undo my waistcoat； Sarson。 Feel my heart； please。
Feel carefully。 I can see the end of your stethoscope in your
pocket。 Don't scamp it。 I fancied this morning； when I was lying
here alone； that there was something almost like a palpitation … a
quicker beat。 Be very careful； Sarson。 Now。〃
The doctor made his examination with impassive face。 Then he
stepped back。
〃There is no change in your condition； Mr。 Fentolin；〃 he announced。
〃The palpitation you spoke of is a mistake。 You are in perfect
health。〃
Mr。 Fentolin sighed gently。
〃Then；〃 he said； 〃I will now amuse myself by a gentle ride down to
the Tower。 You are entirely satisfied； Sarson？ You are keeping
nothing back from me？〃
The doctor looked at him with grim； impassive face。 〃There is
nothing to keep back；〃 he declared。 〃You have the constitution of
a cowboy。 There is no reason why you should not live for another
thirty years。
Mr。 Fentolin sighed； as though a weight bad been removed from his
heart。
〃I will now；〃 he decided； reaching forward for the handle of his
carriage； 〃go down to the Tower。 It is just possible that a few
days' seclusion might be good for our guest。〃
The doctor turned silently away。 There was no one there to see his
expression as he walked towards the door。
CHAPTER VII
The two men who were supping together in the griliroom at the Cafe
Milan were talking with a seriousness which seemed a little out of
keeping with the rose…shaded lamps and the swaying music of the
band from the distant restaurant。 Their conversation had started
some hours before in the club smoking…room and had continued
intermittently throughout the evening。 It had received a further
stimulus when Richard Hamel； who had bought an Evening Standard on
their way from the theatre a few minutes ago； came across a certain
paragraph in it which he read aloud。
〃Hanged if I understand things over here； nowadays； Reggie！〃 he
declared； laying the paper down。 〃Here's another Englishman
imprisoned in Germany … this time at a place no one ever heard of
before。 I won't try to pronounce it。 What does it all mean？ It's
all very well to shrug your shoulders； but when there are eighteen
arrests within one week on a charge of espionage； there must be
something up。〃
For the first time Reginald Kinsley seemed inclined to discuss the
subject seriously。 He drew the paper towards him and read the
little paragraph； word by word。 Then he gave some further order to
an attentive maitre d'hotel and glanced around to be sure that they
were not overheard。
〃Look here； Dick； old chap；〃 he said； 〃you are just back from abroad
and you are not quite in the hang of things yet。 Let me ask you a
plain question。 What do you think of us all？〃
〃Think of you？〃 Hamel repeated； a little doubtfully。 〃Do you mean
personally？〃
〃Take it any way you like；〃 Kinsley replied。 Look at me。 Nine
years ago we played cricket in the same eleven。 I don't look much
like cricket now； do I？〃
Hamel looked at his companion thoughtfully。 For a man who was
doubtless still young； Kinsley had cer