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Page 14
"Was he consulting you professionally, Mr. Harley?" asked the
physician.
"He was," replied Harley, continuing to stare fascinatedly at the
photograph on the mantelpiece. "I am informed," said he,
abruptly, "that Miss Abingdon is out of town?"
Doctor McMurdoch nodded in his slow, gloomy fashion. "She is
staying in Devonshire with poor Abingdon's sister," he answered.
"I am wondering how we are going to break the news to her."
Perceiving that Doctor McMurdoch had clearly been intimate with
the late Sir Charles, Harley determined to make use of this
opportunity to endeavour to fathom the mystery of the late
surgeon's fears. "You will not misunderstand me, Doctor
McMurdoch," he said, "if I venture to ask you one or two rather
personal questions respecting Miss Abingdon?"
Doctor McMurdoch lowered his shaggy brows and looked gloomily at
the speaker. "Mr. Harley," he replied, "I know you by repute for
a man of integrity. But before I answer your questions will you
answer one of mine?"
"Certainly."
"Then my question is this: Does not your interest cease with the
death of your client?"
"Doctor McMurdoch," said Harley, sternly, "you no doubt believe
yourself to be acting as a friend of this bereaved family. You
regard me, perhaps, as a Paul Pry prompted by idle curiosity. On
the contrary, I find myself in a delicate and embarrassing
situation. From Sir Charles's conversation I had gathered that he
entertained certain fears on behalf of his daughter."
"Indeed," said Doctor McMurdoch.
"If these fears were well grounded, the danger is not removed,
but merely increased by the death of Miss Abingdon's natural
protector. I regret, sir, that I approached you for information,
since you have misjudged my motive. But far from my interest
having ceased, it has now as I see the matter become a sacred
duty to learn what it was that Sir Charles apprehended. This
duty, Doctor McMurdoch, I propose to fulfil with or without your
assistance."
"Oh," said Doctor McMurdoch, gloomily, "I'm afraid I've offended
you. But I meant well, Mr. Harley." A faint trace of human
emotion showed itself in his deep voice. "Charley Abingdon and I
were students together in Edinburgh," he explained. "I was mayhap
a little strange."
His apology was so evidently sincere that Harley relented at
once. "Please say no more, Doctor McMurdoch," he responded. "I
fully appreciate your feelings in the matter. At such a time a
stranger can only be an intruder; but"--he fixed his keen eyes
upon the physician--"there is more underlying all this than you
suspect or could readily believe. You will live to know that I
have spoken the truth."
"I know it now," declared the Scotsman, solemnly. "Abingdon was
always eccentric, but he didn't know the meaning of fear."
"Once that may have been true," replied Harley. "But a great fear
was upon him when he came to me, Doctor McMurdoch, and if it is
humanly possible I am going to discover its cause."
"Go ahead," said Doctor McMurdoch and, turning to the side table,
he poured out two liberal portions of whiskey. "If there's
anything I can do to help, count me at your service. You tell me
he had fears about little Phil?"
"He had," answered Harley, "and it is maddening to think that he
died before he could acquaint me with their nature. But I have
hopes that you can help me in this. For instance"--again he fixed
his gaze upon the gloomy face of the physician--"who is the
distinguished Oriental gentleman with whom Sir Charles had
recently become acquainted?"
Doctor McMurdoch's expression remained utterly blank, and he
slowly shook his head. "I haven't an idea in the world," he
declared. "A patient, perhaps?"
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