The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(130)

                “About disease, chiefly. She has the temperament that dreads infection—and therefore catches it.”

                “Why do you think so?”

                “Haven’t you noticed that she often doubles her thumb under her fingers—folds her fist across it—so—especially when anybody talks about anything alarming? If the conversation happens to turn on jungle fever, or any subject like that, down goes her thumb instantly, and she clasps her fist over it with a convulsive squeeze. At the same time, too, her face twitches. I know what that trick means. She’s horribly afraid of tropical diseases, though she never says so.”

                “And you attach importance to her fear?”

                “Of course. I count upon it as probably our chief means of catching and fixing her.”

                “As how?”

                She shook her head and quizzed me. “Wait and see. You are a doctor; I, a trained nurse. Before twenty-four hours, I foresee she will ask us. She is sure to ask us, now she has learned that you are Lady Tepping’s nephew, and that I am acquainted with several of the Best People.”

                That evening, about ten o’clock, Sir Ivor strolled up to me in the smoking-room with affected unconcern. He laid his hand on my arm and drew me aside mysteriously. The ship’s doctor was there, playing a quiet game of poker with a few of the passengers. “I beg your pardon, Dr. Cumberledge,” he began, in an undertone, “could you come outside with me a minute? Lady Meadowcroft has sent me up to you with a message.”



                             I followed him on to the open deck. “It is quite impossible, my dear sir,” I said, shaking my head austerely, for I divined his errand. “I can’t go and see Lady Meadowcroft. Medical etiquette, you know; the constant and salutary rule of the profession!”

                “Why not?” he asked, astonished.

                “The ship carries a surgeon,” I replied, in my most precise tone. “He is a duly qualified gentleman, very able in his profession, and he ought to inspire your wife with confidence. I regard this vessel as Dr. Boyell’s practice, and all on board it as virtually his patients.”

                Sir Ivor’s face fell. “But Lady Meadowcroft is not at all well,” he answered, looking piteous; “and—she can’t endure the ship’s doctor. Such a common man, you know! His loud voice disturbs her. You must have noticed that my wife is a lady of exceptionally delicate nervous organisation.” He hesitated, beamed on me, and played his trump card. “She dislikes being attended by owt but a gentleman.”

                “If a gentleman is also a medical man,” I answered, “his sense of duty towards his brother practitioners would, of course, prevent him from interfering in their proper sphere, or putting upon them the unmerited slight of letting them see him preferred before them.”

                “Then you positively refuse?” he asked, wistfully, drawing back. I could see he stood in a certain dread of that imperious little woman.

                I conceded a point. “I will go down in twenty minutes,” I admitted, looking grave,—“not just now, lest I annoy my colleague,—and I will glance at Lady Meadowcroft in an unprofessional way. If I think her case demands treatment, I will tell Dr. Boyell.” And I returned to the smoking-room and took up a novel.

                Twenty minutes later I knocked at the door of the lady’s private cabin, with my best bedside manner in full play. As I suspected, she was nervous—nothing more—my mere smile reassured her. I observed that she held her thumb fast, doubled under in her fist, all the time I was questioning her, as Hilda had said; and I also noticed that the fingers closed about it convulsively at first, but gradually relaxed as my voice restored confidence. She thanked me profusely, and was really grateful.