Rosa's horses drew us swiftly away from the Grand Babylon Hotel, and
it seemed that she wished to forget or to ignore the remarkable
incident. For some moments she sat silent, her head slightly bent, her
cloak still thrown back, but showing no sign of agitation beyond a
slightly hurried heaving of the bosom.
I was discreet enough not to break in upon her reflections by any
attempt at conversation, for it seemed to me that what I had just
witnessed had been a sudden and terrible crisis, not only in the life
of Sir Cyril, but also in that of the girl whose loveliness was dimly
revealed to me in the obscurity of the vehicle.
We had got no further than Trafalgar Square when she aroused herself,
looked at me, and gave a short laugh.
"I suppose," she remarked, "that a doctor can't cure every disease?"
"Scarcely," I replied.
"Not even a young doctor?" she said with comical gravity.
"Not even a young doctor," I gravely answered.
Then we both laughed.
"You must excuse my fun," she said. "I can't help it, especially when
my mind is disturbed."
"Why do you ask me?" I inquired. "Was it just a general observation
caused by the seriousness of my countenance, or were you thinking of
something in particular?"
"I was thinking of Alresca," she murmured, "my poor Alresca. He is the
rarest gentleman and the finest artist in Europe, and he is
suffering."
"Well," I said, "one can't break one's thigh for nothing."
"It is not his thigh. It is something else."
"What?"
She shook her head, to indicate her inability to answer.
Here I must explain that, on the morning after the accident, I had
taken a hansom to the Devonshire Mansion with the intention of paying
a professional visit to Alresca. I was not altogether certain that I
ought to regard the case as mine, but I went. Immediately before my
hansom, however, there had drawn up another hansom in front of the
portals of the Devonshire, and out of that other hansom had stepped
the famous Toddy MacWhister. Great man as Toddy was, he had an eye on
"saxpences," and it was evident that, in spite of the instructions
which he had given me as to the disposal of Alresca, Toddy was
claiming the patient for his own. I retired. It was the only thing I
could do. Two doctors were not needed, and I did not see myself, a
young man scarcely yet escaped from the fear of examinations,
disputing cases with the redoubtable Toddy. I heard afterwards that he
had prolonged his stay in London in order to attend Alresca. So that
I had not seen the tenor since his accident.
"What does Monsieur Alresca want to see me about?" I demanded
cautiously.