Dr. Armytage, for whom Harry had telegraphed, arrived about nine that night. He had left London immediately on receipt of the summons without dining, and having seen his patient, came downstairs to join Harry in a belated meal. In appearance he was a dark man and spare, his chin and upper lip blue-black from a strong crop of hair close shaven; heavy eyebrows nearly met over his aquiline nose; his mouth had a certain secrecy and tightness about it. But his manner was that of a man reserved but competent; his thin, delicate hands were neat and firm in their movements; and Harry, torn and distracted by a world of bewilderment, found it an unutterable relief to have put one out of all his perplexities, the care of his uncle, into such adequate hands. For the moment, at least, the boon of the doctor\'s arrival quite overscored that sinister impression he had formed of him when, in the summer, he had passed him driving to the station.

With regard to his patient he was grave, but not alarming. Grave, however, one felt he would always be, and Harry remembered Mr. Francis\'s criticism of him, that he knew too much, and had[Pg 322] always in his mind the most remote consequences of any lesion, however insignificant.

"I can give you no certain account of him to-night, Lord Vail," he said. "I found Mr. Francis in a lethargic state, the natural reaction from, so I understand, an agitating scene that took place this afternoon. I did not even speak to him, for I thought it better not to rouse him, as he seemed in a fair way to get a good night\'s rest. But I spoke to his man, who told me that he thought something agitating and painful had taken place. May I ask you if this is the case?"

"Yes," said Harry, "a friend of mine, Mr. Francis, and I, had a terrible scene this afternoon."

"Can you tell me about it; the merest outline only? You see, if Mr. Francis experiences any return of this agitation, which is, to put it frankly, so dangerous, it might be very likely useful that I should know about it, and be able to soothe him with something more specific than wide generalities."

Harry paused; they were alone over dessert.

"It is all very horrible," he said at length, "and I can hardly speak of it. But I can tell you this: Within the last ten days I have had three very narrow escapes from a violent and sudden death."

Dr. Armytage put down with neat haste the glass he was raising to his lips, and gave Harry one quick glance from below his bushy eyebrows. Startling though the words were, you would hardly[Pg 323] have expected such sudden alertness and interest from so self-contained a man.

"Yes?" he said.

"Well, for one at least of these my uncle blames himself," said Harry. "That certainly was one of the causes of his agitation, though perhaps not the greatest immediate cause. Oh, it is awful to speak of it!" he cried. "Tell me what you advise. Had I better tell you everything?"

"I repeat, it may possibly be of use to me," said the doctor. "All you say, of course, will be under the seal of my profession."

The servants had entered the room with coffee, and Harry did not immediately reply. Templeton, as usual, carried the case of the Luck, and even as he took the jewel into his hand, Harry hurriedly filled a wineglass.

"The Luck," he said in no very cordial tone. Then turning to the doctor.

"Please excuse me," he said. "It is a custom I have got into. Yes, that is the Luck; my uncle may have spoken to you about it. You would like to look at it?"

The doctor waved it away.

"Another time, another time," he said, and waited till the servants had left the room. Then:

"Yes," he continued, "I have heard Mr. Francis speak of it. An extraordinary delusion in so clear-headed a man, is it not? He thinks—I hope I am not intruding into family secrets, Lord Vail—he soberly thinks that the Luck brings[Pg 324] blessings and curses on your house. I may say the idea almost possesses him."

"Surely you are mistaken," said Harry. "He is always laughing, sometimes even he is distressed at my believing—ah! not believing, but thinking I believe in it. But very curious things have happened," he added.

"There is doubtless some mistake," said the doctor. "But to return: All you tell me will be under the seal of my profession."

"You mean that I speak to one who is necessarily as silent as the grave," said Harry. "You will pardon my insistence on this."

"I give you my word on it," said the doctor.

"Well, it is a strange, dark story," said Harry, "and if I speak a little incoherently, you will know by the end what perplexities I am in. Now there are two kiosks—sort of places near the house; one is a summerhouse, one an ice house. I got the keys one morning, and asked my uncle which was which. He told me quite distinctly that the left-hand one was the summerhouse. He made a mistake, and I went whistling into the ice house—they were both shuttered and quite dark inside—and came within an ace of falling into the big tank. I am quite sure I went to the one he told me was the summerhouse."

"Number one," said the doctor.

"Next morning he went up to London," continued Harry, "and I and Geoffrey Langham, this friend of mine who left to-day, were going out for a day\'s shooting. My gun was standing in[Pg 325] the rack, and as I took it up it went off, narrowly missing me. The last person who had used that gun and who had left the cartridge in it was my uncle."

"Number two," said the doctor.

"To-day he and I went out together and looked at the flooded lake. I tried to raise an extra sluice that we have, and finding that I could not make it move, we went up toward the farm to get men to help. But, again at his suggestion, he went on to the farm, and I went back to have another try at it. As I was standing on the main sluice, pulling, the whole thing gave way, and I went down with the flood-water, as near to being drowned as any one can wish to be. My uncle had thought the sluice not very safe, but he had not thought it worth mentioning."

The doctor was silent awhile.

"You bear a charmed life, Lord Vail," he said at length. "But I think you have more to tell me."

Harry gave him one dumb, appealing glance, and met eyes which were grave but not unkind, firm and deeply interested. He had the impression that they had long been watching him.

"Yes, I have more—I have more," he said, with agitation, "and it is horribly painful! Dr. Armytage, I have two great friends—or so I think—my uncle, and this Geoffrey Langham, a fellow of my own age or thereabouts. This afternoon, to my uncle\'s face, though I am bound to say he would have preferred to tell me privately, Geoffrey[Pg 326] made horrible insinuations—accusations. He said that Uncle Francis had long been my enemy; that he had tried to prevent my engagement; that he had failed there, and that in this affair, for instance, my uncle had intentionally—had intentionally——" and a strangling knot tied itself in his throat, choking utterance.

The doctor pushed the water-bottle gently a little closer to Harry, and he poured himself out some and drank it, unconscious that any suggestion had been made to him.

"Then there was an awful scene," he went on. "My uncle was nearly off his head, I believe, with remorse and horror for those words which had so nearly sent me to my death, and this was aggravated, I must suppose, by black, ungovernable rage against Geoffrey. I felt that I had never seen an angry man before. He refused to stay another night in the house with him; he asked me continually which of them it was who should go. He could not, of that I was convinced, in that state, and I sent Geoff off. Besides, I can not—simply I can not—believe in Geoff\'s accusations. It is flatly impossible that Uncle Francis should be guilty of the least intention which Geoff attributed to him. Do I not know him? There must be some other explanation. And if you want to know what my other explanation is, it has stood in front of you at dinner. It was the Luck: fire and frost and rain—the ice house, the gun, the sluice. Oh, it has happened once before like that."

[Pg 327]

"Yes, Mr. Francis told me," said the doctor, still looking very intently at him.

Harry flicked the ash off his cigarette.

"Here am I, then," he said. "Of my two best friends, one lies upstairs; the other, God knows if I shall ever see the other again! I have to tell him whether I believe what he said. And I can not believe it. It is monstrous; he is monstrous to have thought it. Yet I see why he thought it; to any one not believing in the Luck, there was no other explanation. There are other things too. I need not trouble you with them. He came to the conclusion, for instance, that my uncle wished to stop my engagement—prevent it rather, for I was not engaged then. They were specious—good Lord! they were specious enough. But I have been considering them all, and I simply can not believe them. It is not that I wilfully shut my eyes; I hold them open with pincers and chisels, so to speak, but I am unable—that is clear—to believe anything of this. How could it be possible? God does not allow such things, I tell you."

"That is your verdict, then. You believe nothing agai............