~ 98 ~
“If you didn’t mind waiting a minute,” he said, “I think I’ll have a smoke.”
They paused a little while. Jack filled and lit the pipe with fingers that trembled a little in spite
of himself. An enormous weight seemed to have lifted from his mind.
“Lord, what a good day it is,” he remarked. “Go on, Lavington, your shot.”
And then it came. Just at the very instant the doctor was hitting. A woman’s voice, high and
agonised.
“Murder – Help! Murder!”
The pipe fell from Jacks nerveless hand, as he turned round in the direction of the
sound, and then, remembering, gazed breathlessly at his companion.
Lavington was looking down the course, shading his eyes.
He had heard nothing.
The world seemed to spin round with Jack. He took a step or two and fell. When he
recovered himself, he was lying on the ground, and Lavington was bending over him.
“There, take it easy now, take it easy.”
“What did I do?”
“You fainted, young man – or gave a very good try at it.”
“My God!” said Jack, and groaned.
“What’s the trouble? Something on your mind?”
“I’ll tell you in one minute, but I’d like to ask you something first.”
The doctor lit his own pipe and settled himself on the bank.” Ask anything you like,” he said
comfortably.
“You’ve been watching me for the last day or two.
“Why?” Lavington’s eyes twinkled a little.
“That’s rather an awkward question. A cat can look at a king, you know.”
“Don’t put me off. I’m earnest. Why was it I’ve a vital reason for asking.”
Lavington’s face grew serious.
“I’ll
answer
you
quite
honestly.
I
recognised
in
you
all
the signs of a man who is under acute strain, and it intrigued me what that strain could be.”
“I can tell you that easily enough,” said Jack bitterly.
“I’m going mad.” He stopped dramatically, but as his statement did not seem to arouse
the interest he expected, he repeated it.
“I tell you I’m going mad.”
“Very curious,” murmured Lavington. “Very curious indeed.”
“I suppose that’s all it does seem to you. Doctors are so damned callous”.
“To begin with, although I have taken my degree, I do not practise medicine. Strictly
speaking, I am not a doctor – not a doctor of the body, that it”. Jack looked at him keenly.
“Of the mind?”
“Yes, in a sense, but more truly I call myself a doctor of the soul.” “Oh!”
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