He led us into a long room lined with beds. A high screen had been reared around one of them, and he drew it aside and motioned for us to enter. An older surgeon stood by the head of the narrow bed with a hypodermic needle in his hand. Opposite him kneeled a nurse. Two bulky men in plainclothes, obvious policemen, stood at the foot.
And against the pillow lay a head that might have been Hugh's, frosted and lined by the years. The gray hair grew in the same even way as Hugh's. The hawk-nose, the deep-set eyes, the stubborn jaw, the close-clipped mustache, the small ears, were all the same. As we entered, the eyes flashed open an instant, then closed.
The policemen and the nurse eyed us curiously, but the surgeon by the bed kept his attention concentrated on the wan cheeks of the inert figure, fingers pressing lightly on the pulse of a hand that lay outside the sheets. Swiftly he stooped, with a low ejaculation to the nurse. She swabbed the figure's arm with a dab of cotton, and the needle was driven home.
"Caught him up in time," remarked the surgeon impartially. "Best leave him while it acts."
"I take it you recognize him, gentlemen."
"Ah! I fancy you will be able to secure a few words with him after the strychnia has taken hold, but he is slipping fast."
"I am from the Detective Bureau," he said. "Do you know how this happened?"
"We know nothing," returned Hugh. "He landed from the _Aquitania_ this morning. We were late in reaching the pier. When we reached it--"
Some instinct prompted me to step on Hugh's foot. He understood, hesitated and shrugged his shoulders.
"--he was gone, ostensibly to seek my apartment."
"Name?" asked the detective, thumbing a notebook.
"His full name is James Hubert Chetwynd Crankhaugh Chesby."
"Well, I don't know how to answer that question. He is a scholar--and then he's a member of the House of Lords."
A subtle change swept over the faces of the policemen. They became absurdly deferential. Their interest, which had been perfunctory, grew intent. The surgeons and the nurse, hardened to such deathbed scenes, responded also to the element of drama which Hugh's words had injected into the drab story.
"Gee-roosalum!" exclaimed the policeman. "This begins to look big. Who could have wanted to bump off a guy like him? Was he--a gay sorter old boy, eh?"