_ PART I CHAPTER XVII. THE VERDICT
"It's a difficult position," said Nick.
"It's a damnable position," said Max. He stared across the white table-cloth with eyes that brooded under down-drawn brows. "I don't anticipate any sudden development if I can keep her off that cursed opium. But--I'd give fifty pounds to have her people within reach."
"Do you know where they are?" said Nick.
Max shrugged his shoulders. "They are cruising about the Atlantic to give Mrs. Bruce, who is neurotic, a rest-cure. Of course, when I undertook to keep an eye on the girl, I never anticipated this. Her brother was anxious about her, I thought somewhat unnecessarily. It was that blackguard Hunt-Goring who precipitated matters. I've given him a pretty straight warning, though Heaven alone knows what effect it will have."
"What did you say to him?" questioned Nick.
"I said that I had just discovered that he had been giving her cigarettes that contained opium. I warned him that it was criminally unsafe, that her brain was peculiarly susceptible to drugs, and that he would probably cause her death if he persisted; also, that if he did I would see that he was held responsible. What more could I say?"
"That was fairly direct certainly," said Nick. "And he?"
"He asked me to dine," said Max.
Nick laughed. "And you didn't accept?"
"Would you have accepted?" Max turned on him almost savagely.
"I think I should," said Nick. "There's nothing like studying the enemy from close quarters. But go ahead! Tell me more! When do you expect her people back?"
"Possibly in a fortnight. They have been gone that time already--rather more. And they expected to make a month of it."
Nick nodded. "We ought to be able to hold the fort for that time. What did your friend Sir Kersley think?"
Max lifted one eyebrow. "What did he say to you about it?"
Nick struck a match for his cigarette with considerable dexterity. "About Violet--practically nothing. About her mother--a good deal."
"I wonder why." Max spoke somewhat curtly.
Nick lighted his cigarette with a whimsical expression. "You don't seem to have noticed what an excellent confidant I make," he said.
"Ah, I know you are safe." There was conviction in Max's tone. "But Kersley is such a reserved chap. And--that ancient affair ruined his life."
"I gathered that," said Nick. "As a matter of fact, I knew a little of the affair before we met. He had been a doctor in my old regiment. It was five years after he retired that I joined; but most of the fellows knew the story. It reached me one way or another. I was deuced sorry for him when I heard the truth. Most people out there were of the opinion that he had treated her badly--was, in fact, to a very great measure responsible for the tragedy."
"That of course was not so," said Max deliberately. "She was responsible from first to last. She knew of the taint in her veins. He did not--till he detected it."
"Rather hard on her!" remarked Nick.
"Would you have married her?" The green eyes fixed him with sudden stern intentness.
Nick blinked rapidly for a few seconds. "I daren't answer that question," he said at length. "You see, I'm not a doctor."
Max rose abruptly. "Are doctors the only beings whoever think of the next generation?" he asked bitterly.
"There is a saying," said Nick, "that 'Love conquers all things.'"
"Pshaw!" said Max. "It never conquered heredity."
"I withdraw the proposition," said Nick. "But, I say, Wyndham!" He paused.
"Well?" Max swung round aggressively with hands in his pockets.
"Suppose the woman you loved developed that disease--would you throw her over?" Nick spoke tentatively.
Max flung back his head and stared at the ceiling. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I want to know what you are made of," replied Nick with simplicity.
Max turned and slowly walked to the window. "Yes," he said, with his back turned, "I should."
Nick was silent.
After a moment Max glanced round at him. "You wouldn't, I suppose?"
"No," said Nick.
"You would marry her regardless of the consequences?"
"If I were an ordinary man--perhaps," said Nick. "If I were a doctor--" he paused--"if I were a doctor, Max," he said again with a sudden smile, "I think I should tackle the situation from another standpoint. Either way, if she loved me and I loved her, I would marry her. As to the consequences--there wouldn't be any."
Max grunted. "Of course you are the exception to every rule."
"Who told you that?" thrust in Nick.
"It's been dinned into me ever since I met you." Half-churlishly Max made reply, and turning fell to pacing the room with the measured tread of one trained to step warily.
"And you believe it?" Nick leaned back in his chair peering forth through eyes half-closed.
"I do--more or less."
"Thanks!" said Nick. "And how goes the courtship?"
Max frowned heavily, without speaking.
"Pardon my asking," said Nick, "and consider the question answered!"
Max stopped squarely in front of him. "It doesn't go," he said briefly.
Nick's glance darted over him for an instant. "What method have you been employing? Coercion? Persuasion? Indifference? Or strategy?"
Max's hands showed clenched inside his pockets. "I'm leaving her alone," he growled.
"Then change your tactics at once!" said Nick. "Try an advance!"
"That's just the mischief. In the present damnable state of affairs, I am powerless. Violet Campion is hating me pretty badly, and--she--is thinking it clever to follow suit. She is avoiding me like the plague."
"That's sometimes a good sign," said Nick thoughtfully.
"Not in this case. It only means she is afraid of me."
Nick's glance flashed up at him again. "For any special reason?"
"I have given her none."
"Violet again?" queried Nick.
"Probably."
Nick ruminated. "You don't think it advisable to tell her how things are?"
"I?" The brief word sounded almost hostile. Max resumed his pacing on the instant. "I'm not an utter brute, Ratcliffe," he said, "whatever I may appear."
Nick sent a cloud of smoke upwards. "Would you call me a brute if I told her?" he asked.
"Yes, I should." Curt and prompt came the answer. "What is more, I won't have it done."
"She is a sensible little soul," contended Nick.
"She may be. But it would increase the difficulties a hundredfold. The girl herself would probably suspect something, and that would almost inevitably precipitate matters. No, the only possible course is to leave things alone for the present. The symptoms are slight, and though it is impossible to say from moment to moment what will happen, the chances are that if we can keep Hunt-Goring from doing any further mischief, the disease may remain in a stationary condition for some time. In that case you may manage to get Olga away on this tom-fool expedition of yours to India before any serious development takes place."
"I see," said Nick. "And you are convinced that a serious development is inevitable?"
"Absolutely." Max came strolling back from the window with eyes fixed and far-seeing. "It is as plain as a pike-staff to any professional man. Kersley detected it at once--as I knew he would; and that was before the midnight episode in Olga's room. Yes, it's bound to come. It may be gradual. It may even take the form of paralysis. But with her temperament I don't think that very likely. It will probably come suddenly as a sequel to some shock or violent agitation. But come--sooner or later--it must."
He spoke slowly, with the deliberation of absolute certainty. Reaching the mantelpiece he lodged himself against it and smoked with his eyes on the ceiling.
Nick watched him with a veiled scrutiny from the depths of his chair. "So that is the verdict," he said at last.
Max nodded without speaking.
"And how long have you known?"
"About a month."
"But you knew them before then?"
Max looked down at him with a slight gesture that passed unexplained. "As long as I have known the Ratcliffes," he said.
"It must have been something of a shock to you," suggested Nick.
Max's jaw hardened. "I was infinitely more interested in her when I knew," he said.
"Really?" said Nick.
"Yes, really." Max spoke with finality. "I assure you I am not impressionable," he added a moment later with the cynical twist of the lips that Olga knew so well. "And I never play with fire. That form of amusement doesn't attract me."
A sudden humorous glitter shone between Nick's half-closed eyelids. "But even serious people burn their fingers sometimes," he observed. "I presume you haven't proposed yet?"
"Yes, I have." Max spoke with dogged assertiveness.
Nick jerked upright. "The deuce you have!"
"You needn't excite yourself," Max assured him grimly. "We are not officially engaged yet--or likely to be. You needn't stick your spoke in. She knows I shan't marry her against her will."
"Oh, that's settled, is it?" Nick's eyes flashed over him with lightning rapidity.
"It is." Max began to smile. "And the marriage will take place some time before the end of next year."
The door opened abruptly while he was speaking, but he finished his sentence with extreme deliberation in spite of the fact that it was Olga who entered,--Olga, flushed and eager, vivid, throbbing with excitement. If she heard his words she paid no heed to them, but broke at once into breathless speech.
"Oh, Nick, it's the post! It's the post! A letter from Dad and another from Muriel; both for you!"
Nick stretched out his hand to her. "Come over here, kiddie! We'll read them together."
She sprang to him, knelt beside him, and warmly hugged him. Max remained propped against the mantelpiece, looking on, ignored by both.
"Muriel's first!" commanded Nick; and, with hands that shook, Olga slit open the envelope.
He put his arm about her shoulders as she withdrew the sheet and opened it out. "Yes, you can read it too. I know what's in it, bless her heart!"
So together they read the closely-written pages. There was silence in the room as they did so, broken only by the crackling of the paper, while Max Wyndham kept a motionless watch, his shaggy brows drawn close.
Suddenly Olga lifted her face. "Oh, Nick, isn't she a darling? I--I--it makes me feel such a beast!"
Nick's hand pinched her cheek in answer. His lips twitched a little, but he did not speak or raise his eyes.
She leaned her cheek against his shoulder. "I won't read any more, Nick. It's too private. May I open Dad's?"
He took his wife's letter between his fingers and dexterously folded it. "All right, Olga _mia!_ Let us hear the verdict of the great Dr. Jim!"
He glanced up at Max with the words and instantly looked away.
Olga had apparently forgotten his very existence. She opened her father's letter still in quivering haste, and again there was a silence of several seconds while they read.
It was broken in a fashion which not one of the three anticipated. Quite suddenly Olga's lips began to quiver. She raised her head with the agitated gesture of one straining for self-control; and then in a moment the tears were running down her cheeks, and she covered her face and sobbed.
"Kiddie! Kiddie!" remonstrated Nick.
But it was Max who stooped and swiftly lifted her, holding her against his heart, stroking the fair hair with his steady capable hand. And surely there was magic in his touch, for almost immediately her weeping ceased. She looked up with slightly startled eyes, and drew herself gently but quite definitely from him.
"Thank you," she said, with a quaint touch of dignity. "You're very kind. Nick dear, I'm sorry. I--I'm all right now. Dad's very sweet to put it like that, pretending he doesn't mind a bit. I don't know how ever I shall say good-bye to him."
"You are really going then?" said Max.
She looked at him with a fleeting smile. "Yes, really!" she said.
"I congratulate you," he said.
Nick chuckled. "He is pretending he doesn't mind, too, Olga."
Olga flushed a little. "Oh, Max never pretends," she said. "Do you, Max?"
He smiled in his grim fashion. "It is not for me to contradict you," he said. "Permit me to congratulate you instead, and to hope that the East will not take as great liberties with your complexion as it has with Nick's."
"I'd rather be like Nick than anyone else in the world," she declared, with one arm wound about her hero's neck.
"Curious, isn't it?" grinned Nick.
"Almost incredible!" said Max.
"But quite true!" asserted Olga with vehemence.
Max swung around with his hands in his pockets, and sauntered to the door. Reaching it, he glanced back for a moment at the eager, girlish face, unperturbed, inscrutable.
"Strange as it may seem," he said, "I personally would rather that you remained like yourself."
"What cheek!" said Olga, as the door shut.
"Oh, isn't he allowed to say that?" enquired Nick.
She nestled to him, albeit half in protest. "Do let's talk about important things!" she said.
And Nick at once took the hint. _