Juggernaut Part 11

"I daresay you'll be wanting to go straight to your room, miss?" he suggested.

"Yes, thank you."

She found herself in a large, irregular entrance hall with a sweep of stairs facing her. On the left was a high Gothic chimney-piece of grey stone, the fireplace banked with azaleas, flame-coloured and rose.

There were a few tall Stuart chairs and a carved oak coffer. The long windows were curtained with old needlework. She followed the butler up the carpeted stairs and from a broad upper hall along a pa.s.sage towards the back of the house, meeting no one on the way but a housemaid.

The room into which she was shown had the charm of harmonious simplicity. The plain furniture was painted black, outlined in mauve; the curtains and covers were of Toile de Jouy in one of those delightful reproductions of an eighteenth-century pattern, showing a dozen scenes of pastoral life, mauve on a white ground. The carpet was black, and on the mantelpiece was a black Wedgwood bowl filled with anemones, placed between crystal candlesticks.

"Your box will be up directly, miss," the butler said as he left her.

She went to the window and looked out over wet green lawns with hedges and oleanders. Rain dripped from the shrubs, but a shaft of watery sunlight had broken through the clouds. She breathed in the fragrance of the garden for several moments, then, her trunk arriving, set herself to work to unpack the belongings so recently stowed away. This done, she quickly changed into one of her pale buff uniforms with its accompanying snowy ap.r.o.n, stiff cuffs and coif--an uncompromising costume at the best of times, yet she had managed to have hers well-cut and of a becoming colour, which was the most that one could do.

As she was putting the final touches to her attire there was a tap on the door and the maid she had seen in the pa.s.sage entered. She was a wholesome-looking Scotch girl with a strong Glasgow accent, and she smiled on Esther in a friendly way.

"If you please, nurse, Miss Clifford is wanting to see you when you've done dressing. She said there was no pertickler hurry."

"I'll come at once," said Esther promptly, and followed her out of the room, back to the central landing, and a few yards along another hallway to the right. Here, in an open doorway, Miss Clifford was standing. At once Esther noticed in her appearance a marked alteration; her strong colour had faded and she looked tired and distressed. However, she smiled in a welcoming fas.h.i.+on and extended her hand as to a friend.

"Ah, I am glad you could come, Miss Rowe," she exclaimed with an air of relief. "It was my first thought when Dr. Sartorius consented to come to us. I felt I should so like to have you look after my brother."

She drew Esther into her room, which was comfortable and bright in a solid, old-fas.h.i.+oned style.

"So you see," she said, closing the door and motioning Esther towards a large easy chair by the fireplace, "my fears were well-grounded after all. He has got typhoid--he had it then."

CHAPTER VIII

"I felt it from the first," continued Miss Clifford. "You see, his symptoms were so exactly like Bannister's--that is the maid who is ill.

There was only this difference, that my brother was a good deal longer developing his case. I don't know why, I'm sure, for he's so much older and not in robust health, either. You'd have thought he'd succ.u.mb more quickly than a young strong woman."

"You would think so," agreed Esther. "But of course there are different types of typhoid. I've even seen people who had all the symptoms fully developed, yet who never knew it and kept about the whole time."

"Really!" Miss Clifford looked frankly astonished.

"How is Sir Charles now?"

"Why, not so ill as one might have expected," replied his sister more cheerfully. "So far, we have much to be thankful for. The other nurse will tell you what she thinks, and of course you'll see the chart, but I believe I'm right in saying they consider it a mild case."

"I'm glad of that!"

"You'll see him after lunch. The other nurse is going off duty then until about eleven to-night. To-morrow will see you straightened out with regard to your hours. I thought we'd have you for the day, because"--she laughed--"without meaning to descend to barefaced flattery, you are rather nicer to look at!"

"I sha'n't know how much of a compliment that is till I see the other nurse," replied Esther, laughing too.

"You will think me very stupid," resumed the old lady after a slight pause, her face grown grave again, "but for weeks past, even before this happened, I've had such an odd sense of insecurity, a presentiment of trouble. I'm not given to feelings of that kind, which makes this one more noticeable. I can't explain it, but there it is--a kind of foreboding that I can't shake off."

"You shouldn't feel it now that your brother is going on so well."

"No, of course not, but I'm afraid I do."

"I expect you are tired and run down. That causes lots of premonitions."

"Yes, no doubt you're right. Was that the bell?" she asked, breaking off and listening alertly. "For two days I've been looking for a cable from my nephew. I sent him one nearly three days ago, but there has been no reply. That's one thing that's worrying me."

"Is that Sir Charles's son?"

"Yes. He has been in America on business since October. I sent the cable to Chicago, which was the last address we had, but he has probably moved about a good deal since then. I wish he were here!"

There was a knock and the butler entered with the blue form of a _depeche_ in his hand.

"Ah, here it is at last! This surely must be from Mr. Roger, Chalmers."

She took the telegram eagerly and tore it open, reading its contents with an expression of mingled joy and amazement.

"This is odd. It is sent from Cherbourg and says simply, 'Shall be with you Friday morning.' Friday! That's to-morrow. Why, he has arrived in France, and is catching the night train from Paris. That is a surprise, isn't it, Chalmers?"

"And miss, if you'll notice, it's addressed to Sir Charles, not to yourself."

"Is it? You are right, Chalmers. That looks as though he'd never got our cable, doesn't it? I suppose he couldn't if he was already on the water."

"Unless," suggested Esther, "they had sent it on by wireless to the boat."

"Of course, I didn't think of that. Anyhow, it doesn't matter now that he will be here so soon. He must have wanted to surprise us. We didn't expect him for another two months."

She turned briskly to the butler.

"Get the corner room ready, Chalmers. What a good thing we put the doctor at the back! And tell her ladys.h.i.+p we're expecting Mr.

Roger--or no, I'll see to that myself."

"Very good, miss. It will be nice to see Mr. Roger, won't it, miss?"

said the old man, preparing to go. "It will do Sir Charles a world of good."

"Yes, Chalmers, it's great good fortune. Find out the times the Paris trains get in, and order the car. I shall drive down to meet Mr.

Roger."

"Yes, miss. I should hardly think he'd be on the Blue Train, as that's booked up so far in advance."

"Of course," mused Miss Clifford when the butler had departed, "if he hasn't had our news it will be a shock to him to find his father ill.

I am very fond of my nephew, Miss Rowe," she added. "He is almost like my own son."

Her eyes brightened and her whole plain-featured face was irradiated with pleasure so that she seemed suddenly to have grown handsome. Then as Esther remarked this another change came over her, a sort of cloud descended, and her manner showed vague nervousness and hesitation.

"I suppose," she said, rising, "I'd better go and tell my sister-in-law."

She moved about undecidedly, and it occurred to Esther that the task she was contemplating was an uncongenial one, though why it should be so was not apparent. She turned suddenly to Esther.

"Come with me, Miss Rowe," she suggested, "I can show you your patient's quarters at the same time."