His nose told him what words might have tried vainly to say: he
swallowed the mixture. "If I lose the patient," he muttered oracularly,
"I lose the money." His resolute wife dragged him out of his chair. The
second door in the dining-room led into an empty bed-chamber. With her
help, he got into the room, and dropped on the bed.
Mrs. Vimpany consulted her watch.
On many a former occasion she had learnt what interval of repose was
required, before the sobering influence of the mixture could
successfully assert itself. For the present, she had only to return to
the other room. The waiter presented himself, asking if there was
anything he could do for her. Familiar with the defective side of her
husband's character, he understood what it meant when she pointed to
the bedroom door. "The old story, ma'am," he said, with an air of
respectful sympathy. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"
Mrs. Vimpany accepted the tea, and enjoyed it thoughtfully.
She had two objects in view--to be revenged on Mountjoy, and to find a
way of forcing him to leave the town before he could communicate his
discoveries to Iris. How to reach these separate ends, by one and the
same means, was still the problem which she was trying to solve, when
the doctor's coarse voice was audible, calling for somebody to come to
him.
If his head was only clear enough, by this time, to understand the
questions which she meant to put, his answers might suggest the idea of
which she was in search. Rising with alacrity, Mrs. Vimpany returned to
the bed-chamber.
"You miserable creature," she began, "are you sober now?"
"I'm as sober as you are."
"Do you know," she went on, "why Mr. Mountjoy asked you to dine with
him?"
"Because he's my friend."
"He is your worst enemy. Hold your tongue! I'll explain what I mean
directly. Rouse your memory, if you have got a memory left. I want to
know what you and Mr. Mountjoy talked about after dinner."
He stared at her helplessly. She tried to find her way to his
recollection by making suggestive inquiries. It was useless; he only
complained of being thirsty. His wife lost her self-control. She was
too furiously angry with him to be able to remain in the room.
Recovering her composure when she was alone, she sent for soda-water
and brandy. Her one chance of making him useful was to humour his vile
temper; she waited on him herself.