If Hartley was governed by fear, well and good. If not, Isaacson would stand a scene, provoke a scandal, even defy Nigel for his own sake. Would that be necessary?
Well, he would soon know. He would know that night. Hartley had promised to summon him in consultation that night.
"Meanwhile I simply must rest."
He spoke to himself as a doctor. And at last he went below, lay down in his cabin with the wooden shutters drawn over the windows, and closed his eyes. He had little hope of sleep. But sleep presently came. When he woke, he heard voices quite near him. They seemed to come from the water. He lay still and listened. They were natives' voices talking violently. He began to get up. As he put his feet to the floor, he heard a knock.
"Come in!" he called.
Hassan put in his head.
"The gentleman him here!"
"What gentleman? Not Doctor Hartley?"
"The sick gentleman."
Nigel! Was it possible? Isaacson sprang up and hurried on deck. There was a boat from the Loulia alongside, and on the upper deck was Doctor Hartley walking restlessly about. He heard Isaacson and turned sharply.
"You've come to fetch me?" said Isaacson.
As he came up, he had noticed that already the sun had set. He had slept for a long time.
"There's been a--a most unpleasant--a most distressing scene!" Hartley said.
"Why, with whom?"
"With her--Mrs. Armine. What on earth have you done to set her against you? She--she--really, it amounts to absolute hatred. Have you ever done her any serious wrong?"
"Never!"
"I--I really think she must be hysterical. There's--there's the greatest change in her."
He paused. Then, very abruptly, he said: "Have you any idea how old she is?"
"I only know that she isn't thirty-eight," said Isaacson.
"Isn't thirty-eight!"
"She is older than that. She once told me so--in an indirect way."
Hartley looked at him with sudden suspicion.
"Then you've--you and she have known each other very well?"
"Never!"
"Till now I imagined her about thirty, thirty-two perhaps, something like that."
"Till now?"
"Yes. She--to-day she looks suddenly almost like a--well--a middle-aged woman. I never saw such a change."
It seemed that the young man was seriously perturbed by the announced transformation.
"Sit down, won't you?" said Isaacson.
"No, thanks. I--"
He went to the rail. Isaacson followed him.
"Our talk quite decided me," Hartley said, "to call you in to-night. I felt it was necessary. I felt I owed it to myself as a--if I may say so--a rising medical man."
"I think you did."
"When she woke I told her so. But I'm sorry to say she didn't take my view. We had a long talk. It really was most trying, most disagreeable. But she was not herself. She knew it. She said it was my fault--that I ought not to have given her that veronal. Certainly she did look awful. D'you know"--he turned round to Isaacson, and there was in his face an expression almost of awe--"it was really like seeing a woman become suddenly old before one's very eyes. And--and I had thought she was quite--comparatively--young!"