Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical LifeDoyle, Arthur Conan
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Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life
Doyle, Arthur Conan
Medical fiction; Physicians -- Fiction
"He's a horrible chap, Smith. That is the only word for him. I have
had doubts about him ever since that night when he fainted--you
remember, when you came down. I taxed him to-day, and he told me
things that made my hair rise, and wanted me to stand in with him. I'm
not strait-laced, but I am a clergyman's son, you know, and I think
there are some things which are quite beyond the pale. I only thank
God that I found him out before it was too late, for he was to have
married into my family."
"This is all very fine, Lee," said Abercrombie Smith curtly. "But
either you are saying a great deal too much or a great deal too little."
"I give you a warning."
"If there is real reason for warning, no promise can bind you. If I
see a rascal about to blow a place up with dynamite no pledge will
stand in my way of preventing him."
"Ah, but I cannot prevent him, and I can do nothing but warn you."
"Without saying what you warn me against."
"Against Bellingham."
"But that is childish. Why should I fear him, or any man?"
"I can't tell you. I can only entreat you to change your rooms. You
are in danger where you are. I don't even say that Bellingham would
wish to injure you. But it might happen, for he is a dangerous
neighbour just now."
"Perhaps I know more than you think," said Smith, looking keenly at the
young man's boyish, earnest face. "Suppose I tell you that some one
else shares Bellingham's rooms."
Monkhouse Lee sprang from his chair in uncontrollable excitement.
"You know, then?" he gasped.
"A woman."
Lee dropped back again with a groan.
"My lips are sealed," he said. "I must not speak."
"Well, anyhow," said Smith, rising, "it is not likely that I should
allow myself to be frightened out of rooms which suit me very nicely.
It would be a little too feeble for me to move out all my goods and
chattels because you say that Bellingham might in some unexplained way
do me an injury. I think that I'll just take my chance, and stay where
I am, and as I see that it's nearly five o'clock, I must ask you to
excuse me."
He bade the young student adieu in a few curt words, and made his way
homeward through the sweet spring evening feeling half-ruffled,
half-amused, as any other strong, unimaginative man might who has been
menaced by a vague and shadowy danger.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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