"Anstice--I say, you're wanted--badly--at Cherry Orchard." Surely that was Bruce Cheniston's voice which beat upon his ears until it reached his inner sense. Yet what was that he was saying ... something about an accident ... to Cherry ... but the time of cherries was over ... surely now the summer was dead ... he was cold, bitterly cold, the fire must be out, his teeth were chattering ... there was a mist before his eyes....
"Dr. Anstice, is anything the matter? Are you ill?"
That voice belonged to no one on earth but Iris Wayne, yet that insubstantial grey shadow which seemed to speak was only another ghost, a figment of his overwrought brain. He wished--how he wished--that these ghosts would leave him, would return to the haunted place whence they came and allow him to sink once more into the blessed oblivion from which they called him with their thin, far-away voices....
"It's no use, Iris!" Cheniston spoke abruptly, puzzled by the other man's strange behaviour, to which as yet he could assign no cause. "The man's asleep--or dazed--or--or"--suddenly a suspicion swept into his brain--"or perhaps there's a less creditable cause for this extraordinary behaviour."
"What do you mean, Bruce?" Iris' grey eyes dilated and her face blanched. "Is he--ill--or----"
"I am not--ill, Miss Wayne." Somehow he had caught her words, her dear voice had penetrated through the fog which enveloped his senses. "Don't, please, be afraid.... I ... I am only ..."
"Anyway you're not fit to speak to a lady," cut in Cheniston incisively. "We came to fetch you to Cherry Orchard; there's been on accident, my little niece is badly hurt and Mrs. Carstairs wanted you--but it's evident you're not in a fit state to come...."
Once more the fog lifted for a moment; and although he felt everything to be whirling round him Anstice rose unsteadily to his feet and faced his accuser.
Through the open door the light streamed on to his haggard face; and as she saw the ravages which suffering had wrought in him Iris uttered an exclamation.
"Don't be afraid, Miss Wayne." He could only, it seemed, repeat himself. "I ... I didn't expect any one coming here." He spoke slowly, a pause between each word. "I ... if there's anything--I can do----"
"There isn't--unless you can pull yourself together sufficiently to come to Cherry Orchard," said Cheniston coldly. "And judging from your appearance you can't do that."
The contempt in his voice stung Anstice momentarily into self-defence.