Blind Policy. Fenn George Manville

Why?”

      “Because we decline to let you go till your patient is quite out of danger.”

      “What!” cried Chester, sharply, over-excited by what he had gone through. “Am I to be kept a prisoner?”

      “If you like to call it so. Everything you desire you can have, but you cannot leave here yet.”

      “Absurd!” said Chester, angrily, and as he spoke he saw that two of the gentlemen present moved to the door by which he had entered. “I insist upon going at once.”

      “You cannot, sir.”

      “Stand aside, sir, and let me pass!” cried Chester, sternly, as his opponent moved between him and the door.

      “Jem, for pity’s sake” – whispered the lady. “Doctor, I beg, I pray you to stay.”

      “It is impossible, madam, now. Let me pass, sir.” There was a fierce motion made towards the patient, but Chester did not heed it. He saw that the other occupants of the room were closing him in, in answer to a gesture made by the gentleman in front.

      The spirit within him was roused now, and in his resentment he stepped fiercely forward with extended hand, when his opponent thrust his hand into his breast with a menacing gesture.

      Quick as thought, Chester stepped back and caught up the revolver he had seen lying upon the table.

      There was a faint cry, and two white hands were laid upon his breast.

      “Stand aside, Marion!” and there was a click from the lock of another pistol.

      “Doctor! for his sake! – pray!”

      Chester turned from her sharply, as if to avoid her eyes. Then flashed his own upon the man who barred his way.

      “Is this the rehearsal of some drama, sir?” he said scoffingly. “I refuse all part in it. Now have the goodness to let me pass, for pass I will.”

      He threw the pistol he held upon the carpet, and once more advanced toward the door, braving the weapon pointed at his head.

      “Bah!” he cried; “do you think to frighten me with that theatrical nonsense?”

      “Keep back, sir, or I fire.”

      At that moment a white hand pressed the electric button by the side of the heavy mantelpiece, the room was suddenly darkened, and a sharp crack and rattling sound announced the locking of the door and withdrawing of the key.

      “Then there has been foul play,” muttered Chester. “Into what trap have I fallen here?”

      Chapter Three.

      Two Hundred Guineas

      Chester took a couple of steps to his right, for there was a faint sound in the pitchy darkness which he interpreted to mean the advance of an enemy. Then in the perturbation of spirit and nervousness of the moment, he moved a step or two cautiously in what he believed to be the direction of the other door, and stopped short, half-dazed by the feeling of confusion which comes upon one in a dense fog.

      “Who did that?” said the voice he recognised. “You, Marion, of course. Here, you go to your room.”

      There was no reply.

      “Do you hear me? It is no time for fooling now.”

      “Yes, I hear you, but I will not leave his side. You cowards! do you want to kill me too?”

      “Hold your tongue. Di – Paddy – all of you, get hold of the mad fool before worse comes of it.”

      There was a faint cry, a panting and scuffling, the word “Help!” blurred and stifled as if a hand had been suddenly clapped over the speaker’s lips, and Chester mentally saw his beautiful companion of the brougham struggling violently as she was being half carried from the room.

      Stirred by excitement to the deepest depths, Chester rushed to her help, and was brought up sharp by the dining table, while the scuffling continued upon the other side.

      He felt his way along the edge, to pass round it in the darkness, but the noise he made betrayed his whereabouts, and his next step took him into the grasp of a pair of strong hands, which held him firmly, and before he could free himself, there was the sound of a door opening, a faint light showed for a moment, and before it was shut off he dimly saw the actors in the struggle; then the door was closed, and the voice of him addressed as Jem said sharply —

      “Light up, Paddy.”

      A glass was knocked from the table; someone stumbled against a chair; an angry oath followed; and then came the rattle of massive fire-irons.

      “Are you drunk, man?” came in the same voice.

      “Drunk? no! but I’m not an owl,” was growled. “Ah! that’s it.”

      The cluster of incandescent lights glowed golden, and then brightened, showing the doctor that the dining table was between him and the couch where his patient lay, white and motionless; the tall, decisive man standing where he had last seen him, close to the door; a heavy-featured young fellow with a family likeness close by the mantelpiece; another, the one who had held him, close by.

      “Well, doctor,” said the chief spokesman, cynically, “the storm has passed over. All unexpected only a few hours ago, and we were seated happily after our coffee and cigarettes, when that idiot began to play the fool with his revolver, and shot himself. Troubles never come alone. Now, my dear sir, let me apologise for what has happened since we all lost our tempers and behaved so foolishly.”

      Chester looked at him sternly and remained silent.

      “You will excuse my hastiness. I was excited in my anxiety about the poor fool there, and you see now how imperative it is that you should not leave him till he is safe.”

      “Will you be good enough to unlock that door, sir, and let me pass through?” said Chester, coldly.

      “To be perfectly plain, doctor – no, I will not. Let us understand one another at once. You will have to stay and make the best of it.”

      “I shall not stay, sir, and as soon as I leave here I shall take what steps seem, after due thought, to be correct over what has been an outrage toward me; and without doubt a murderous attack upon that unfortunate man.”

      “Murderous attack? Absurd, doctor! An accident.”

      “Do you take me for a child, sir? He could not have shot himself. Now, if you please, unlock that door.”

      “When I unlock it, doctor, it will be to go out and lock you in,” said the other, grimly. “There, sir, it is of no use to struggle, so make the best of it. You are in for a week, but we’ll make it as comfortable for you as we can. Like to send home a telegram?”

      “Will you have the goodness to understand me, sir!” said Chester, firmly.

      “I do, my dear doctor, but you will not understand me. A week with your patient will not hurt you, and a fee of a couple of hundred guineas shall be paid – now, if you like. There, I will be plain with you, as a man of the world. It was a family quarrel, and two hot-headed fools drew their revolvers – Yankee fashion. Here, Paddy, see that we have some coffee and liqueurs. Cigar or cigarette, doctor? Sit down, and let’s chat it over like sensible men.”

      “I do not wish to come to a struggle and blows again, sir,” said Chester, firmly. “Please understand that you are wasting words. I mean to leave this house at once.”

      “We often mean to do things that are impossible, doctor. You cannot. So act sensibly. Take some refreshment, and attend to your patient. Will you have the goodness to look round this room?”

      Chester made no reply.

      “You will not smoke? I will. My nerves want soothing.”

      The speaker lit a large cigar, and left the gold-mounted case open upon the table.

      “Better take one,” he said as he exhaled the fragrant fumes; “they are rather fine. Now, doctor; that door communicates