Can you advise me?”

“You will communicate with your friends to-morrow?” asked Miss Wynward
anxiously. “Oh! yes! as soon as I can!”

“Then I should go to the Langham Hotel in Portland Place for to-night
at all events! There you will be safe till your friends advise you
further. What can I do to help you?”

“Ask Sarah or William to fetch a cab! And to have my boxes placed on
it! There is a _douceur_ for them,” said Harriet, placing a handsome
sum in Miss Wynward’s hand. “And you will not see the Baroness again?” asked her companion. “No! no! for God’s sake, no. I could not trust myself! I can never look
upon her face again!”

In a few minutes the hired vehicle rolled away from the door, bearing
Harriet Brandt and her possessions to the Langham Hotel, and Miss
Wynward returned to the room where Bobby lay. Madame Gobelli stood
exactly where she had left her, gazing at the corpse. There were no
tears in her eyes--only the continuous shaking of her huge limbs. “Come!” said Miss Wynward, not unkindly, “you had better sit down, and
let me bring you a glass of wine! This terrible shock has been too much
for you.”

But the Baroness only pushed her hand away, impatiently. “Who was that driving away just now?” she enquired. “Miss Brandt! You have driven her from the house with your cruel and
unnecessary accusations. No one liked Bobby better than she did!”

“Has the doctor arrived?”

“I expect so! I hear the Baron’s voice in the hall now!”

Almost as she spoke, the Baron and the doctor entered the room. The
medical man did what was required of him. He felt the heart and pulse
of the corpse--turned back the eyelids--sighed professionally, and
asked how long it was since it had happened. He was told that it was about an hour since they had found him. “Ah! he has been dead longer than that! Three hours at the least, maybe
four! I am afraid there must be an inquest, and it would be advisable
in the interests of science to have a post mortem. A great pity, a
fine grown lad--nineteen years old, you say--shall probably detect
hidden mischief in the heart and lungs. I will make all the necessary
arrangements with the Baron. Good evening!”

And the doctor bowed himself out of sight again. “It is quite true then,” articulated the Baroness thickly. “He is gone!”

“Oh! yes, my lady, he is gone, poor dear boy! I felt sure of that!”

“It is quite certain?”

“Quite certain! The body is already stiffening!”

The Baroness did not utter a sound, but Miss Wynward glancing at her,
saw her body sway slowly backwards and forwards once or twice, before
it fell heavily to the ground, stricken with paralysis. CHAPTER XVI. Doctor Phillips was a great favourite with the _beau sexe_. He was so
mild and courteous, so benevolent and sympathetic, that they felt sure
he might be trusted with their little secrets. Women, both old and
young, invaded his premises daily, and therefore it was no matter of
surprise to him, when, whilst he was still occupied with his breakfast
on the morning following Harriet Brandt’s flight from the Red House,
his confidential servant Charles announced that a young lady was
waiting to see him in his consulting room. “No name, Charles?” demanded the doctor. “No name, Sir!” replied the discreet Charles without the ghost of a
smile. “Say that I will be with her in a minute!”

Doctor Phillips finished his cutlet and his coffee before he rose from
table. He knew what ladies’ confidences were like and that he should
not have much chance of returning to finish an interrupted meal. But as he entered his consulting room, his air of indifference changed
to one of surprise. Pacing restlessly up and down the carpet, was
Harriet Brandt, but so altered that he should hardly have recognised
her. Her face was puffy and swollen, as though she had wept all night,
her eyelids red and inflamed, her whole demeanour wild and anxious. “My dear young lady--is it possible that I see Miss Brandt?” the doctor
began. She turned towards him and coming up close to his side, grasped his
arm. “I must speak to you!” she exclaimed, without further preliminary,
“you are the only person who can set my doubts at rest.”

“Well! well! well!” he said, soothingly, for the girl looked and spoke
as though her mind were disordered. “You may rely that I will do all I
can for you! But let us sit down first!”

“No! no!” cried Harriet, “there is no time, I cannot rest; you must
satisfy my mind at once, or I shall go mad! I have not closed my eyes
all night--the time was interminable, but how could I sleep! I seemed
to be torn in pieces by ten thousand devils!”

“My dear child,” said Doctor Phillips, as he laid his hand on hers and
looked her steadily in the face, “you are over-excited. You must try to
restrain yourself.”

He went up to a side table and, pouring out some cordial, made her
drink it. Harriet gulped it down, and sank back exhausted in a chair. She was weak and worn-out with the excitement she had passed through. “Come! that is better,” said the doctor, as he saw the tears stealing
from beneath her closed eyelids, “now, don’t hurry yourself! Keep quiet
till you feel strong enough to speak, and then tell me what it is that
brings you here!”

The allusion appeared to stir up all her misery again. She sat upright
and grasped the doctor by the arm as she had done at first. “You must tell me,” she said breathlessly, “you must tell me all I want
to know. They say you knew my father and mother in Jamaica! Is that
true?”

The old doctor began to feel uncomfortable. It is one thing to warn
those in whom you are interested against a certain person, or persons,
and another to be confronted with the individual you have spoken of,
and forced to repeat your words. Yet Doctor Phillips was innocent of
having misjudged, or slandered anyone. “I _did_ know your father and mother--for a short time!” he answered
cautiously. “And were they married to each other?”

“My dear young lady, what is the use of dragging up such questions
now? Your parents are both gone to their account--why not let all that
concerned them rest also?”

“No! no! you forget that I live--to suffer the effects of their
wrong-doing! I _must_ know the truth--I will not leave the house until
you tell me! Were they married? Am I a--a--bastard?”

“If you insist upon knowing, I believe they were not married--at least
it was the general opinion in the Island. But would not Mr. Tarver be
the proper person to inform you of anything which you may wish to know?”

Harriet seized his hand and carried it to her forehead--it was burning
hot. “Feel that!” she exclaimed, “and you would have me wait for weeks
before I could get any satisfaction from Mr. Tarver, and not then
perhaps! Do you think I could live through the agony of suspense. I
should kill myself before the answer to my letter came. No! you are the
only person that can give me any satisfaction. Madame Gobelli told me
to ask you for the truth, if I did not believe her!”

“Madame Gobelli,” reiterated the doctor in surprise.