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<h3>Chapter Thirteen.</h3> <h4>The Young Doctor.</h4> “Look here,” said Artis; “you mustn’t be offended with me. I speak very plainly, and if I can be of any use to you, I will.” They were in the drawing-room, Preenham, having announced that the masons had left. “I am not going to think of your remarks.” “I was thinking of going to-day,” continued Artis; “but I feel now that I ought not to go and leave you in a regular hole like this.” “There is no need for you to stay.” “Well, no need, of course; but I suppose you will not kick me out.” “Of course not. You are welcome.” “That’s right,” said Artis. “You see,” he continued, looking round to where Katrine and Lydia sat together, “I feel it due to myself to stop and show that I had no hand in that.” “No one accused you, Mr Artis.” “Oh, no, of course not; that would be too good a joke. Then I shall stay.” “Our case is different,” said Lydia, turning red, and then pale. “Mr Capel, Miss D’Enghien and I, if we can be of no more use, would like to say good-bye this afternoon.” “But why?” cried Capel, as he glanced at the speaker, and then fixed his eyes on Katrine. “There is no occasion for you to leave.” “I think Miss Lawrence is right,” said Katrine. “But I want help and counsel from both of you. You must not leave me yet.” “It is impossible for us to stay.” “Impossible! Why? Etiquette? Is not Mr Girtle here? Are not things as they have been since we met?” “I did not know that Mr Girtle was going to stop?” said Katrine, softly. “If I felt that we could be of any service—” “Then you will stay?” cried Capel, warmly. Katrine hesitated, looked up, then down, raised, her eyes once more, and left her chair to take Lydia’s hand. “Let us go up-stairs,” she said softly. Lydia rose at once. “You do not speak,” said Capel. Katrine did not answer till they reached the door, and then she raised her eyes to his with a long, timid look. “If Lydia consents, so will I.” “And you will stay, Miss Lawrence, to help me?” cried Capel, warmly. “I will,” said Lydia, gravely. “That’s right,” cried Capel, opening the door for them to pass out, and catching Katrine’s eye for a moment as she passed. “Curse her! She’s playing a dangerous game,” said Artis to himself, as he watched the ladies leave the room. Glancing aside, he saw that the old lawyer was watching him narrowly. “I suppose you are not glad that I am going to stay, Mr Girtle,” he said. “For some things I am,” said the old man, coolly. “For others I am not.” Just then Capel returned. The two girls separated as they reached their rooms, Katrine kissing Lydia’s cheek, and then, as soon as she was alone, her countenance changed, and she sat gazing with glowing eyes, that seemed full of some purpose upon which she was bent. At the same time Lydia Lawrence sat with her face buried in her hands, weeping silently and wishing that she were back in her country home. Very little more was said below, for Mr Girtle had an engagement in the City, and left the young men together. “You won’t have a detective set to work?” “No.” “Well, do as you like. I’m off for a run, to get rid of this gloom. Back to dinner.” “Thank goodness!” said Artis, breathing more freely, and five minutes after he was slowly crossing the square, wondering who the man was who had just gone up to the door he had left. “I’ve seen his face before,” he muttered. “Why, of course, the young doctor. What does he want?” Capel was thinking of the fortune that had slipped through his fingers. Depressed, and yet at times overjoyed, for Katrine’s glance had been full of hope. But he must trace the money that had been taken, and the gems—how lovely they would look on Katrine’s neck! He sighed as he pictured her thus adorned, and he was sinking into a day dream, when the door opened softly, and Preenham entered with the doctor’s card. “Doctor Heston? Show him up.” Capel motioned his visitor to a chair, when the keen-looking young doctor, who was watching him narrowly, said: “I dare say you are surprised to see me here.” “Oh, no. A call?” “I only make professional calls, Mr Capel, I have come to you on an important matter.” “Indeed!” exclaimed Capel. “Yes. Respecting the death of one of those two men—the Indian, sir. I’m afraid there was some foul play there.” “Foul play? Why, he was killed with a life-preserver.” The doctor tapped with his fingers on his hat, as if he was beating a funeral march. Then, quickly: “No, sir; the more I study this case, the more I feel convinced that he was not.” <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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