You've given me credit for that
many a time." Clarendon looked at her keenly. "Yes," he said jerkily as he rose and strode from the room, "you're
right. You've always tried to help as best you knew. You may yet have a
chance to help still more." Georgina, seeing him disappear through the front door, followed him
into the yard. Some distance away a lantern was shining through the
trees, and as they approached it they saw Surama bending over a large
object stretched on the ground. Clarendon, advancing, gave a short
grunt; but when Georgina saw what it was she rushed up with a shriek. It was Dick, the great St. Bernard, and he was lying still with
reddened eyes and protruding tongue. "He's sick, Al!" she cried. "Do something for him, quick!" The doctor looked at Surama, who had uttered something in a tongue
unknown to Georgina. "Take him to the clinic," he ordered; "I'm afraid Dick's caught the
fever." Surama took up the dog as he had taken poor Tsanpo the day before, and
carried him silently to the building near the mall. He did not chuckle
this time, but glanced at Clarendon with what appeared to be real
anxiety. It almost seemed to Georgina that Surama was asking the doctor
to save her pet. Clarendon, however, made no move to follow, but stood still for a
moment and then sauntered slowly toward the house. Georgina, astonished
at such callousness, kept up a running fire of entreaties on Dick's
behalf, but it was of no use. Without paying the slightest attention
to her pleas he made directly for the library and began to read in a
large old book which had lain face down on the table. She put her hand
on his shoulder as he sat there, but he did not speak or turn his head. He only kept on reading, and Georgina, glancing curiously over his
shoulder, wondered in what strange alphabet this brass-bound tome was
written. In the cavernous parlor across the hall, sitting alone in the dark a
quarter of an hour later, Georgina came to her decision. Something
was gravely wrong--just what, and to what extent, she scarcely dared
formulate to herself--and it was time that she called in some stronger
force to help her. Of course it must be James. He was powerful and
capable, and his sympathy and affection would show him the right thing
to do. He had known Al always, and would understand. It was by this time rather late, but Georgina had resolved on action. Across the hall the light still shone from the library, and she looked
wistfully at the doorway as she quietly donned a hat and left the
house. Outside the gloomy mansion and forbidding grounds, it was only a
short walk to Jackson Street, where by good luck she found a carriage
to take her to the Western Union telegraph office. There she carefully
wrote out a message to James Dalton in Sacramento, asking him to come
at once to San Francisco on a matter of the greatest importance to them
all. 5


Dalton was frankly perplexed by Georgina's sudden message. He had had
no word from the Clarendons since that stormy February evening when
Alfred had declared him an outsider to his home; and he in turn had
studiously refrained from communicating, even when he had longed to
express sympathy after the doctor's summary ousting from office. He had
fought hard to frustrate the politicians and keep the appointive power,
and was bitterly sorry to watch the unseating of a man who, despite
recent estrangements, still represented to him the ultimate ideal of
scientific competence. Now, with this clearly frightened summons before him, he could not
imagine what had happened. He knew, though, that Georgina was not
one to lose her head or send forth a needless alarm; hence he wasted
no time, but took the Overland which left Sacramento within the hour,
going at once to his club and sending word to Georgina by a messenger
that he was in town and wholly at her service. Meanwhile things had been quiescent at the Clarendon home,
notwithstanding the doctor's continued taciturnity and his absolute
refusal to report on the dog's condition. Shadows of evil seemed
omnipresent and thickening, but for the moment there was a lull. Georgina was relieved to get Dalton's message and learn that he
was close at hand, and sent back word that she would call him
when necessity arose. Amidst all the gathering tension some faint
compensating element seemed manifest, and Georgina finally decided that
it was the absence of the lean Tibetans, whose stealthy, sinuous ways
and disturbing exotic aspect had always annoyed her. They had vanished
all at once; and old Margarita, the sole visible servant left in the
house, told her they were helping their master and Surama at the clinic. The following morning--the 28th of May--long to be remembered--was dark
and lowering, and Georgina felt the precarious calm wearing thin. She
did not see her brother at all, but knew he was in the clinic hard at
work at something despite the lack of specimens he had bewailed. She
wondered how poor Tsanpo was getting along, and whether he had really
been subjected to any serious inoculation, but it must be confessed
that she wondered more about Dick. She longed to know whether Surama
had done anything for the faithful dog amidst his master's oddly
callous indifference. Surama's apparent solicitude on the night of
Dick's seizure had impressed her greatly, giving her perhaps the
kindliest feeling she had ever had for the detested clinic-man. Now,
as the day advanced, she found herself thinking more and more of Dick;
till at last her harassed nerves, finding in this one detail a sort of
symbolic summation of the whole horror that lay upon the household,
could stand the suspense no longer. Up to that time she had always respected Alfred's imperious wish that
he be never approached or disturbed at the clinic; but as this fateful
afternoon advanced, her resolution to break through the barrier grew
stronger and stronger. Finally she set out with determined face,
crossing the yard and entering the unlocked vestibule of the forbidden
structure with the fixed intention of discovering how the dog was or of
knowing the reason for her brother's secrecy. The inner door, as usual, was locked; and behind it she heard voices
in heated conversation. When her knocking brought no response she
rattled the knob as loudly as possible, but still the voices argued on
unheeding. They belonged, of course, to Surama and her brother; and as
she stood there trying to attract attention she could not help catch
something of their drift. Fate had made her for the second time an
eavesdropper, and once more the matter she overheard seemed likely to
tax her mental poise and nervous endurance to their ultimate bounds. Alfred and Surama were plainly quarreling with increasing violence, and
the purport of their speech was enough to arouse the wildest fears and
confirm the gravest apprehensions. Georgina shivered as her brother's
voice mounted shrilly to dangerous heights of fanatical tension.