A patient."
At this moment a voice, which Dr. Levillier immediately recognized as the
voice of Valentine, was audible in the hall.
Mrs. Wilson turned suddenly very pale, and began to tremble and gnaw her
nether lip with her teeth in an access of nervous disturbance.
"In God's name tell me who that is," she whispered, turning her head in
the direction of the door. "It can't be--it can't be--" Valentine's voice
rose a little louder. "It _is_ his voice."
"Fancy!" the doctor said firmly. "It is the voice of a friend of mine,
Mr. Valentine Cresswell."
Mrs. Wilson said nothing. She was trying to force herself to believe
the evidence of another's sense against her own. Such a task is always
difficult. At last she looked up and said:
"There, doctor, there you have an exhibition of my illness. It's horrible
to me. Can you cure it?"
"I will try," the doctor answered.
But he found it very difficult just at that moment to say the three
words quietly, to let Valentine go after leaving his message, without
confronting him with this haggard patient who was entering the pool of
Bethesda.
CHAPTER IX
A SHADOW ON FIRE
When a naturally calm, clear, and courageous mind finds itself besieged
by what seem hysterical fancies, it is troubled and perplexed, and is
inclined to take drastic measures to restore itself to its normal
condition.
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