Part 63

“I am much indebted to you, Dr. Cumberly,” said Max; “a thousand thanks;” but in his eyes there was a far-away look. “Malpas--Malpas! Where in this case have I met with the name of Malpas?”

“Inspector Dunbar may possibly have mentioned it to you in reference to the evidence of Mr. John Exel, M. P. Mr. Exel, you may remember”...

“I have it!” cried Max; “Nom d'un nom! I have it! It was from Sir Brian Malpas that he had parted at the corner of Victoria Street on the night of the murder, is it not so?”

“Your memory is very good, M. Max!”

“Then Mr. Exel is a personal friend of Sir Brian Malpas?

“Excellent! Kismet aids me still! I come to you hoping that you may be acquainted with the constitution of Mrs. Leroux, but no! behold me disappointed in this. Then--morbleu! among your patients I find a possible client of the opium syndicate!”

“What! Malpas? Good God! I had not thought of that! Of course, he must retire somewhere from the ken of society to indulge in these opium orgies”...

“Quite so. I have hopes. Since it would never do for Sir Brian Malpas to know who I am and what I seek, a roundabout introduction is provided by kindly Providence--Ah! that good little angel of mine!--in the person of Mr. John Exel, M. P.”

“I will introduce you to Mr. Exel with pleasure.”

“Eh bien! Let it be arranged as soon as possible,” said M. Max. “To Mr. John Exel I will be, as to Miss Ryland (morbleu! I hate me!) and Miss Cumberly (pardieu! I loathe myself!), M. Gaston! It is ten o'clock, and already I hear your first patient ringing at the front-door bell. Good morning, Dr. Cumberly.”

Dr. Cumberly grasped his hand cordially.

“Good morning, M. Max!”

The famous detective was indeed retiring, when:

“M. Max!”

He turned--and looked into the troubled gray eyes of Dr. Cumberly.

“You would ask me where is she--Mrs. Leroux?” he said. “My friend--I may call you my friend, may I not?--I cannot say if she is living or is dead. Some little I know of the Chinese, quite a little; nom de dieu!... I hope she is dead!”...

XXIV

OPIUM

Denise Ryland was lunching that day with Dr. Cumberly and his daughter at Palace Mansions; and as was usually the case when this trio met, the conversation turned upon the mystery.

“I have just seen Leroux,” said the physician, as he took his seat, “and I have told him that he must go for a drive to-morrow. I have released him from his room, and given him the run of the place again, but until he can get right away, complete recovery is impossible. A little cheerful company might be useful, though. You might look in and see him for a while, Helen?”

Helen met her father's eyes, gravely, and replied, with perfect composure, “I will do so with pleasure. Miss Ryland will come with me.”

“Suppose,” said Denise Ryland, assuming her most truculent air, “you leave off... talking in that... frigid manner... my dear. Considering that Mira... Leroux and I were... old friends, and that you... are old friends of hers, too, and considering that I spend... my life amongst... people who very sensibly call... one another... by their Christian names, forget that my name is Ryland, and call me... Denise!”

“I should love to!” cried Helen Cumberly; “in fact, I wanted to do so the very first time I saw you; perhaps because Mira Leroux always referred to you as Denise”...

“May I also avail myself of the privilege?” inquired Dr. Cumberly with gravity, “and may I hope that you will return the compliment?”

“I cannot... do it!” declared Denise Ryland, firmly. “A doctor ... should never be known by any other name than... Doctor. If I heard any one refer to my own... physician as Jack or... Bill, or Dick... I should lose ALL faith in him at once!”

As the lunch proceeded, Dr. Cumberly gradually grew more silent, seeming to be employed with his own thoughts; and although his daughter and Denise Ryland were discussing the very matter that engaged his own attention, he took no part in the conversation for some time. Then:

“I agree with you!” he said, suddenly, interrupting Helen; “the greatest blow of all to Leroux was the knowledge that his wife had been deceiving him.”

“He invited... deceit!” proclaimed Denise Ryland, “by his... criminal neglect.”