I made the necessary dispositions for the transport of Alresca in an
hour's time to his flat in the Devonshire Mansion, and then I sat down
near him. He was white and weak, but perfectly conscious. He had
proved himself to be an admirable patient. Even in the very crisis of
the setting his personal distinction and his remarkable and finished
politeness had suffered no eclipse. And now he lay there, with his
silky mustache disarranged and his hair damp, exactly as I had once
seen him on the couch in the garden by the sea in the third act of
"Tristan," the picture of nobility. He could not move, for the
sufficient reason that a strong splint ran from his armpit to his
ankle, but his arms were free, and he raised his left hand, and
beckoned me with an irresistible gesture to come quite close to him.
I smiled encouragingly and obeyed.
"My kind friend," he murmured, "I know not your name."
His English was not the English of an Englishman, but it was beautiful
in its exotic quaintness.
"My name is Carl Foster," I said. "It will be better for you not to
talk."
He made another gesture of protest with that wonderful left hand of
his.
"Monsieur Foster, I must talk to Mademoiselle Rosa."
"Impossible," I replied. "It really is essential that you should keep
quiet."
"Kind friend, grant me this wish. When I have seen her I shall be
better. It will do me much good."
There was such a desire in his eyes, such a persuasive plaintiveness
in his voice, that, against my judgment, I yielded.
"Very well," I said. "But I am afraid I can only let you see her for
five minutes."
The hand waved compliance, and I told the valet to go and inquire for
Rosa.
"She is here, sir," said the valet on opening the door. I jumped up.
There she was, standing on the door-mat in the narrow passage! Yet I
had been out of the room twice, once to speak to Sir Cyril Smart, and
once to answer an inquiry from my cousin Sullivan, and I had not seen
her.
She was still in the bridal costume of Elsa, and she seemed to be
waiting for permission to enter. I went outside to her, closing the
door.
"Sir Cyril would not let me come," she said. "But I have escaped him.
I was just wondering if I dared peep in. How is he?"