Part 36 (1/2)

”That's it! Thanks very much.”

”You're a Catholic?” went on the other, giving it him.

”Yes.”

The doctor sat down again.

”I thought so,” he said.

Frank wondered why. Then a thought crossed his mind.

”Have I been talking?” he said. ”I suppose I was delirious?”

The doctor made no answer for a moment; he was looking at him fixedly.

Then he roused himself.

”Well, yes, you have,” he said.

Frank felt rather uncomfortable.

”Hope I haven't said anything I shouldn't.”

The old man laughed shortly and grimly.

”Oh, no,” he said. ”Far from it. At least, your friends wouldn't think so.”

”What was it about?”

”We'll talk about that later, if you like,” said the doctor. ”Now I want you to get up a bit after you've had some food.”

It was with a very strange sensation that Frank found himself out in the garden next day, in a sheltered corner, seated in a wicker chair in which, by the help of bamboo poles, he had been carried downstairs by Thomas and the Major, with the doctor leading the way and giving directions as to how to turn the corners. The chair was brought out through an irregularly-shaped little court at the back of the house and set down in the warm autumn noon, against an old wall, with a big kitchen garden, terribly neglected, spread before him. The smoke of burning went up in the middle distance, denoting the heap of weeds pulled by the Major and Gertie during the last three days. He saw Gertie in the distance once or twice, in a clean sun-bonnet, going about her business, but she made no sign. The smell of the burning weeds gave a pleasant, wholesome and acrid taste to his mouth.

”Now then,” said the doctor, ”we can have our little talk.” And he sat down beside him on another chair.

Frank felt a little nervous, he scarcely knew why. It seemed to him that it would be far better not to refer to the past at all. And it appeared to him a little unusual that a doctor should be so anxious about it.

Twice or three times since yesterday this old man had begun to ask him a question and had checked himself. There was a very curious eagerness about him now.

”I'm awfully grateful and all that,” said Frank. ”Is there anything special you want to know? I suppose I've been talking about my people?”

The doctor waved a wrinkled hand.

”No, no,” he said, ”not a word. You talked about a girl a little, of course--everybody does; but not much. No, it isn't that.”

Frank felt relieved. He wasn't anxious about anything else.

”I'm glad of that. By the way, may I smoke?”

The doctor produced a leather case of cigarettes and held it out.