“I shall never forget that you did this for me. You once told me that you loved me next best to yourself, and that all people loved themselves best and when they said they loved someone else it was because of the comfort and pleasure that person brought them. Do you remember? I don’t think you have shown that is true . of you. “
He laughed.
“Don’t make a hero of me. You’ll be horribly disappointed if you do.”
“Oh, Lucas …”
“All right, all right. No more. Don’t let’s get sentimental. I thought you ought to know, that’s all. When you told me who he was and that he had said he would try to get to Australia, I wrote to Dick and he’ll be on his way there now. It’s a sparsely populated place. It might be a fraction easier to find him there. But even if we did … he can’t come back, can he?”
“Until we prove him innocent.”
He looked at me sadly.
“You think I am never going to prove it, don’t you?” I said.
“I think you have set yourself a very difficult task.”
“But you are going to help me, Lucas.”
“Rather a broken reed, you know.”
“But you are going to be much better after … you know you are.
You’re sure of it. “
“Well, that’s the whole purpose, isn’t it?”
“I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over.”
“Thank you, Rosetta.”
“It’s got to be a success. It’s got to be.”
He nodded. I kissed him on the forehead and left him. I was unable to hide my emotion and I did not want him to see how fearful I was.
After I had left him I asked if I might have a word with the surgeon and I was finally conducted to him. I said that I should be grateful if he would tell me if there was any danger of Lucas’s not coming through the operation.
When he hesitated for a few seconds I felt numb with “I believe you are his fiancee,” he said. I did not deny it. I thought in that role he would be more frank with me. He went on: “It is a long and delicate operation. If it is successful, he will be able to walk with much more ease and painlessly … although there will always be a slight limp. Because it is long and complicated, it could be a strain on the heart, and that is where the danger lies. Mr. Lorimer is strong and healthy. He is in moderately good condition. There is a good chance that he will come successfully through the operation. It is just that we should not forget the strain on the heart.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He laid a hand on my shoulder.
“I am sure it will be all right,” he said.
I came out of the clinic feeling very disturbed. I wanted to go back to Lucas and tell him how much I cared for him, and at this time the most important thing in the world to me was that the operation would be a success.
The next day seemed as though it would never pass. In the late afternoon my father. Aunt Maud and I went to the clinic. We saw the doctor whom I had seen on the previous day.
“He has come safely through,” he said.
“It is too soon yet to see how successful the operation is. But Mr. Lorimer is doing well. You might look in and see him, but don’t stay more than a few minutes. Just Miss Cranleigh, of course.”
I saw Lucas. He was lying in his bed, his leg under a frame. He looked very different from how I had ever seen him before . defenceless, vulnerable.
“Hello, Lucas.”
“Rosetta …”
“They say you’ve done well.”
He nodded and looked at the chair beside his bed. I sat down.
“Good to see you.”
“Don’t talk. They’ve told me I mustn’t stay more than a few minutes.”
He smiled faintly.
“I just want you to know that I’m thinking of you all the time. I’ll come again as soon as they let me.”
He smiled.
“And you’ll be out of here soon.”
A nurse looked in and I rose.
“Don’t forget. I’m thinking of you,” I said, and kissed him.
Then we went back to Bloomsbury.
Lucas was progressing ‘as well as could be expected’. He was in bed and I gathered that the success of the operation was not yet known and would not be until he was able to put his feet to the ground. Visits had to be brief. It made the days seem long, and one day I decided to go and look at the place where Mirabel had stayed when she had come to London with her mysterious illness.
I could not forget that Maria had said: “If she had been married I should have thought she was expecting.” She must have been wrong.
There was no child. I wondered if there was some evidence hidden in the fact that she had come to London in that way.
Malton House was in Bayswater. That was all I knew, but it might not be impossible to find the place.
Lucas had occupied my mind exclusively during the last week, and because I was unable to see him except very briefly, I needed something to occupy me and to take my mind from the fearful feeling of uncertainty that all might not have gone right with him after all.
I would take a cab one afternoon and go and see if I could find Malton House. I reminded myself that I must ‘leave no stone unturned’. Who knew, important evidence might be found in the least expected places.
It was true that the need to prove Simon innocent had taken second place to my anxiety about Lucas lately, but I had gone too far in my search to slacken now. The need to prove Simon’s innocence was as strong as ever.
I knew the name of the house and the name of the district. I would hail a cab and ask to be taken to Bayswater. Cabdrivers were very knowledgeable about London. They had to be. It was essential to their jobs.
It was early afternoon. My father was at work in his study. Aunt Maud was taking a nap. I came out of the house and hailed a cab.
The cabdriver looked a little dismayed when I told him I wanted to go to Malton House in Bayswater.
“Malton House? Where’s that?”
“In Bayswater.”
“That all the address you’ve got?”
I told him it was.
“Well, we’ll get to Bayswater. That’s easy enough. Here … wait a minute, I know of a Malton Square.”
“I think it would very likely be there.”
“All right then, Miss. We’ll go and see.”
When we arrived at Malton Square he slowed down and studied the houses as we went along.
We saw a woman with a shopping-bag. She was walking briskly along.
The cabdriver slowed up and touched his hat with his whip.
“Excuse me, lady. You know Malton House round here?”
“Why, yes,” she said.
“The one on the corner.”
“Thank ‘ee, M’am.”
The cab stopped before a house.
I said: “Will you wait for me? I shall not be long.”
“I’ll just wait round the corner, into the next street,” he said.
“Can’t very well stay here right on the corner.”
“That will suit me beautifully.”
And it did, for it occurred to me that he might think it odd that I had made the journey just to look at the place.
The house lay back from the road. Steps led to the door, and among the few rather dingy bushes in the front garden there was a board on which was printed “Malton House. Maternity Nursing Home.” And in the corner, “Mrs. B. A. Campden’ with several letters after her name, the significance of which I was unsure of.
I stood staring at the board for some moments and as I did so a woman came up to me. I recognized her at once as the one whom the cabdriver had asked about the house.
“Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly.
“Oh … erno, thank you,” I said.
“I am Mrs. Campden,” she said.
“I saw you alight from the cab.”