The Stretton Street Affair Part 5

"And how long have I been here?"

"Nearly three weeks," was her answer.

Was it really possible that I had been lost for the previous ten days or so?

I tried to obtain some further facts from my nurse, but she refused to satisfy my curiosity.

"I have been ordered by the doctors to keep you very quiet," she said.

"Please do not ask me to break my promise. You will be much better to-morrow--and they will tell you everything."

"But mine is a strange case, is it not?" I asked.

"Very strange," she admitted. "We have all been much puzzled concerning you."

"Then why not tell me all the circ.u.mstances now? Why keep me in suspense?" I urged.

"Because you have not yet quite recovered. You are not entirely yourself. Come," she added kindly, "let us take a little walk. It will do you good for the weather is so lovely to-day."

At her suggestion I strolled by her side through the pleasant grounds of the hospital, down into St. Malo, the busy streets of which were, however, entirely unfamiliar to me. Yet, according to the Sister, I had walked in them a number of times before. Still, I had no recollection of doing so.

"I am taking you for your favourite stroll," she said, as we went down one of the steep, tortuous streets to the little Place Chateaubriand in front of the ancient castle, which, she told me, was now a barracks.

Presently she mounted to the ramparts, and as we strolled round them, I admired the beautiful view of the sea, the many islets, and the curious appearance of the town. The tide was up, and the view on that sunny December morning was glorious.

At one point where we halted my nurse pointed out the little summer town of Dinard and St. Enogat, and told me the names of the various islets rising from the sea, Les Herbiers, the Grand Jardin, La Conchee, and all the rest.

But I walked those ramparts like a man in a dream. A new life had, in that past hour, opened up to me. What had occurred since I had accepted that bundle of bank notes from the millionaire's hand I did not know. I had emerged from the darkness of unconsciousness into the knowledge of things about me, and found myself amid surroundings which I had never before known--in a French hospital where they evidently viewed me as an interesting "case."

I stood against the wall and gazed about. My habit was to carry my cigarette-case in my upper waistcoat pocket. Instinctively I felt for it, and it was there. It was not my own silver case, but a big nickel one, yet in it there were some of my own brand.

I looked inquiringly at my nurse.

She smiled, saying:

"You haven't many left. Why can't you smoke some other brand? You always insist upon that one. I had so much difficulty in getting them for you yesterday!"

"They are my own particular fancy," I said, tapping one of them upon the case before lighting it.

"I know. But here, in France, they are most difficult to get. The other day you said you had smoked them all through the war, and even when you were in Italy you had had them sent out to you from London."

That was quite correct.

"Well, Sister," I laughed. "I have no recollection of saying that, but it is perfectly true. It seems that only this morning I regained consciousness."

"Professor Thillot said you would. Others gave you up, but he declared that after careful nursing your memory would regain its normal balance."

"Who is Professor Thillot?"

"The great nerve specialist of Paris. The police engaged him to come to see you. He was here ten days ago, and he put you under my charge."

I laughed.

"Then I am still an interesting case, Sister--eh?"

"Yes. You certainly are."

"But do tell me more of what I am in ignorance," I implored. "I want to know how I came here--in France--when I lost all consciousness in a house just off Park Lane, in London."

"To-morrow," she said, firmly, but kindly. She was a charming woman, whose name she gave me as Soeur Marie.

We strolled back to the hospital, but on the way along the Quai Duguay-Trouin--I noticed it written up--I became again confused. My vision was not as it should have been, and my memory seemed blurred, even of the happenings of the past hour.

My nurse chatted as we walked together through the streets, but I know that my answers were unintelligible. I felt I was not myself. All my senses were keen as far as I could gauge--all save that of my memory of the past.

As I ascended through the pretty grounds of the hospital, the Sister beside me, I felt a curious failing of my heart. I experienced a sensation which I cannot here describe, as of one who had lost all interest in life, and who longed for death.

There may be some among my readers who have experienced it, perhaps. I cannot describe it; I merely explain that I felt inert, inefficient, and bored with life.

No such feeling had ever fallen upon me before. Hitherto I had been quick, alert, and full of the enjoyment of living. At Rivermead Mansions Harry Hambledon and I had prided ourselves on our post-war alertness.

Where was Harry? What was he doing? Would he be wondering why I was absent from our riparian bachelor home?

I was reflecting upon all this when suddenly, without any apparent cause, I once more lost consciousness. We were at that moment entering the door of the hospital and the Sister had just exclaimed:

"Now, do remain quite quiet and not worry over the past. It will all be right to-morrow," she urged.

I know not what words I uttered in reply. A curious sense of oppression had fallen upon me, a hot, burning feeling as though my skull was filled with molten metal, while at the back of my neck was a sharp excruciating pain which caused me to hold my breath.

The Sister apparently noticed my sudden relapse, for she expressed a hope that I was not feeling worse. I tried to rea.s.sure her that I was all right, but I know I failed to do so, for once again I lost all knowledge of things about me.

After that I recollect nothing more. Probably I walked on mechanically back to my bed.

When my lapse had pa.s.sed, and I again regained consciousness, I found myself in bed gazing up at the ceiling. On either side of me were men, also in bed. They were talking in French.

I listened, and in a few seconds I recollected the events of the previous day. Then a sharp-featured nurse, whom I had not seen before, told us it was time to dress. I obeyed, but my clothes were entirely unfamiliar. They were coa.r.s.e and did not fit me.

While I washed I burst out laughing. The humour of the situation struck me as distinctly amusing. At one hour I was myself; at the next I was another being!

Was my case that of Jekyll and Hyde?

I knew, and I felt keenly about it, that I had accepted a bribe to perform an illicit service. I had posed as a medical man and given a certificate of death. But my one and only object in life was to see Mr. De Gex and demand of him a full explanation of the amazing and suspicious circ.u.mstances.

My lapses were intermittent. At times I was fully conscious of the past. At others my brain was awhirl and aflame. I could think of nothing, see nothing--only distorted visions of things about me.

Apparently twenty-four hours had pa.s.sed since I walked in the suns.h.i.+ne.

The men in the hospital ward were all Frenchmen, apparently of the lower cla.s.s. At one end of the room a heated argument was in progress in which four or five men were gesticulating and wrangling, while one man was seated on his bed laughing idiotically, it seemed, at his own thoughts.

Presently a tall thin man in spectacles entered, and addressing me, asked me to follow him.