“Why is the count here? Who gave him my address? Is this visit friendly or hostile?”

  “I’m a great admirer of photos,” began the count, “and one of my friends on whose taste I can rely has spoken to me in the warmest terms of your talent. This I trust will explain the liberty I’ve taken. Curiosity drove me to...”

  He stopped for a moment.

  “My name is Count Evergreen.”

  Frank now knew that the visit was not a friendly one.

  “I’m only too pleased to receive your visit. Unfortunately I haven’t been able to take many photos lately due to my work. I have some old ones. Would you like to see them?”

  The count replied in the affirmative. He was terribly embarrassed about giving a fictitious name to the doctor and shrank before the honest, open gaze of the young man. His mental agony increased, when he saw a picture frame, upside down on the doctor’s desk. He could not see the photo, which the Weasel had alluded to. It was evident, though, that the old villain had told him the truth and that his sister’s portrait was probably in the picture frame. She had evidently been there and had probably spent hours there.

  “Can I blame her?” he thought. “She has listened to the voice of her heart.”

  As the count looked at the young man in front of him, he was forced to admit that Cora had not given her affections to an unworthy man. The sign outside had already informed him that the man in front of him was a doctor. Now he could see he was a young handsome doctor, whose open face and shining eyes didn’t express a grain of malice.

  “Ah,” thought Frank Defoe, “so you come to me under a name that is not your real one and I will respect that, but I will also take advantage of it by saying things to the brother of the woman I love, which I wouldn’t dare say, if you had introduced yourself as her brother.”

  Frank couldn’t fail to notice that his visitor’s eyes often wandered to the picture frame on his desk. While Mr. Bletchley was looking at the various photos on the walls, Frank had time to regain his composure.

  “Let me congratulate you, sir,” said the count, as he walked to the doctor. “My friend’s admiration was well founded. I’m sorry that you have nothing recent to show me. You said that you had nothing new, I believe?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “Not even that photo whose frame is upside down on your desk?”

  Frank blushed, though he had been expecting the question from the count’s glances at it.

  “Excuse me,” he answered. “That is a new photo, but it’s not on view.”

  The count was now sure that the Weasel’s statement was correct.

  “I suppose that it’s some woman’s portrait,” said the baron.

  “You’re quite correct.”

  Both men felt their hearts beating at this moment and avoided meeting each other’s eyes.

  The count made up his mind that he would find out, no matter what.

  “Ah, you’re in love, I see!” he said with a forced laugh. “All the greats have captured the charms of their mistresses on film.”

  “Stop right there,” cried Frank with a furious look in his eyes. “The photo you so casually refer to as my mistress is a portrait of the loveliest and purest woman in the world. I will love her forever. I respect her very much and I resent someone, who does not know her decency implying knowing her character, when her character is as pure as crystal and she has done nothing to be ashamed of.”

  A feeling of relief overwhelmed Mr. Bletchley’s heart.

  “You will pardon me,” he said blandly, hiding his emotions, “but, when one sees a portrait, the inference is that the lady had been posing for it, maybe for several days or weeks.”

  “You’re right. She came here secretly and without the knowledge of her family, at the risk of her honor and reputation and thereby afforded me the strongest proof of her love. It was cruel of me,” continued the young man, “to allow this proof of her devotion and yet not only did I accept it, but I pleaded for it on my bended knee, because how else was I to hear the beautiful music of her voice or delight my eyes with her beauty? We love each other, but our difference in rank and wealth divide us. She’s a wealthy aristocrat from a long and proud line of aristocrats, while I...”

  Frank stopped, overcome by emotions. The count remained silent.

  “Do you know who I am? A poor doctor, born to a stone mason and a bar maid. I began in the world with twenty shilling in my pocket and found my way to London. Since then I’ve earned my bread by working every night and studying every day, until I became a doctor. You only see here the more brilliant side of my life, now that I’m a doctor. In my heart I’m a common workman.”

  Bletchley stayed silent, because of his admiration for the honest young man, which was now unexpectedly revealed to him.

  “She knows me,” continued the doctor, “and yet she continues to love me. It was here, in this very room, that she vowed that she would be my wife. Now, sir, would you like to see this young woman’s photo?”

  “Yes,” answered the count.

  Frank Defoe went to the picture and showed it to the count.

  “It’s she!” said the brother, mesmerized by the photo. “Her smile, the same soft light in her eyes. It’s quite exquisite!”

  Misfortune had taught the once haughty nobleman a harsh lesson. Only weeks ago he would have laughed at the mere idea of granting his sister’s hand to a struggling doctor, but now he would thank the Good Lord on bended knee, if he was allowed to choose Dr. Frank Defoe as Cora’s husband. But that villain Jason St. Ives stood in the way of her and his happiness.

  “You know that she is engaged to someone else,” he said.

  “A criminal, who has some sort of hold over her brother. I know!” said the young man desperately.

  “So you know?” asked the count.

  Frank nodded.

  “Mr. Defoe, if ever we can free ourselves from these miscreants, whose daggers are pointing at our hearts, Cora is free to choose for you.”

  It was as if lightning had struck him. He grasped the hand of the count and shook it violently. He was too confused to decide to either kiss it or dance around the room. The baron, however, not wishing to give himself too much hope, took his leave.

  Frank Defoe was in a daze. Cora might yet be his, but between the lovers stood Jason St. Ives and his associates. But with her brother on his side, he felt strong enough to go on the attack.

  “To work!” he said. “To work!”

  Just then he heard laughter outside his door. He could distinguish a woman’s voice and also a man’s. All at once the door of his surgery burst open and a whirlwind of silks, velvets, feathers and lace barged in. The doctor recognized the beautiful features of Mrs. Delaford. Ralph Greenstreet followed her in.

  “Here we are,” he said immediately. “All right again. You didn’t expect to see us, what?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “It’s a little present from the old man. On my word, I really will be a dutiful son from now on. Today, the old fellow came into my room and said, “Mrs. Delaford is welcome to sit at my table.” What do you think of that? So off I ran to find Mrs. Delaford and here we are.”

  Frank Defoe didn’t pay much attention to Ralph, but was watching Mrs. Delaford, who was looking around the surgery. She went up to Cora’s photo and was about to turn it right side up, when Frank rushed to her and said, “Excuse me, that picture frame is empty.”

  He took it and put it in his desk drawer.

  “And now,” said Ralph, “I want you to come and breakfast with us to celebrate Mrs. Delaford’s admittance to my father’s house if not his heart.”

  “I’m much obliged to you, but it’s impossible. I must get on with my work.”

  “Ah, yes. Work is an excellent thing, but just now you must go dress and come with us.”

  “I assure you that it’s quite out of the question. I cannot leave the surgery.”

  Ralph was for a moment in deep thought.

  “I have it,” he said triumphantly. “If you won’t come to breakfast, then breakfast will come to you. I’m off to order it.”

  He left the room quickly. Frank ran after him, but Ralph was too fast. He came back to the studio in anything but a good mood. Mrs. Delaford noticed his annoyance.

  “He always goes on in this manner,” she said, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, “and thinks himself clever and witty.”

  Her tone revealed a certain contempt for Ralph and the doctor looked at her in surprise.

  “Why do you look so surprised? It’s easy to see you don’t know much of him. All his friends are just like him. If you listen to them for half an hour, you begin feeling sick. Think of the terrible evenings that I’ve spent in their company, I feel ready to just die.” As she spoke, she gesticulated wildly. “If only he really loved me!”

  “Love you? He adores you.”

  Mrs. Delaford made a little gesture.

  “Do you think so?” she said. “Do you know what he loves in me? When people pass us by they say, “Isn’t she lovely?” and then he’s as pleased as a lark. If he spent time with me alone at home, he would think nothing of me.”

  Mrs. Delaford evidently knew what she was talking about, because her beauty had never been so radiant. She was in one word, lovely to behold.

  “Now my name is not good enough for him,” she went on. “His lips can’t bring themselves to say such a common name as Mrs. Delaford, so he calls me, “Fluffie,” a regular puppy dog’s name. I know he has plenty of money, but money is not everything. My former fiancé Allen Acheson had no money and yet I loved him a thousand times more.”

  The doctor didn’t know Allen Acheson. She continued her lament.

  “I’ve almost forgotten how to laugh and yet I used to be happy all day long.”

  “Why did you leave Mr. Acheson then or did he leave you?”

  She gave him a look and his face flushed red.

  “Well, you see, I’m still young and I wanted to experience what a rich woman feels, when she is wearing silk, lace and fur, so one fine morning I told him it was over. But you know, who knows? Allen would have left me one day anyway. There was a man, a cunning man, who was doing his best to separate us. He’s called Weasel. He looks down on his luck, but I think he’s rich.”

  “Ah!” Frank said cautiously. “But what interest could he have had in separating you two?”

  “I don’t know,” answered the woman, in a serious tone of voice, “but I’m sure he was trying it. He was giving Allen money all the time and more than that, he promised him a fortune through a friend of his called Joseph Kennan.”

  Frank Defoe startled. She mentioned the name of one of his enemies.

  “I think that Allen has forgotten me. I saw him once at Carl Esprey’s and he never attempted to say a word to me. He was with Mr. Kennan at the time.”

  Frank could only draw one conclusion from this, either that Allen Acheson was a tool of the gang of conspirators or that he was one of its members. In either case he was useful to their schemes, while Mrs. Delaford, who was apparently in their way, was cut out of his life.

  Frank’s mind came to the conclusion that the Weasel must have been somehow part of the plot. It seemed to him that if the Weasel had been desirous of removing Mrs. Delaford as his fiancée, it was because she was in the way and her presence disturbed the outcome of the plans. Suddenly Ralph’s shrill voice was heard at the door and in another moment he entered.

  He said, “Make way for the moveable feast.”

  Two waiters followed him, bearing a number of covered dishes on trays. At any other time Frank would have been very furious at this invasion and at the prospect of a breakfast that would last two or three hours and interfere with his duty to help his patients, though as yet he had not many of them. But now he was inclined to bless Ralph for his happy idea and with the help of Mrs. Delaford, he quickly cleared a large table for the reception of the dishes.

  Ralph didn’t do a thing, but talked incessantly.

  “And now I must tell you the best joke I heard all day. You remember Jason St. Ives, right, he has launched a company.”

  Frank nearly let fall a bottle, which he was about to place on the table.

  “Who told you that?” he asked quickly.

  “Who told me? Why, a great big flaming ad in the newspaper. Diamond Mines of South Africa with a capital of four million. And my good and empty-headed friend, Jason, has not a ten penny piece to keep the devil out of his pocket.”

  The face of the young doctor expressed such surprise that Ralph burst into laughter.

  “You look just as I did, when I read it. Jason St. Ives, the chairman of a company! Imagine that. If he had been elected Pope, I couldn’t have been more surprised. Diamond Mines of South Africa! What a joke! The shares are five hundred shilling.”

  The waiters had now left the room and were talking to a nurse in the other room and Ralph urged his friends to take their places at the table. As the morning wore on and Ralph became jealous of his friend St. Ives and his mind couldn’t stand the copious amounts of wine with which he washed down his meal, he began to reproach Mrs. Delaford with bitter remarks at her not being able to understand how a man like him, who was destined to play a big role in society, could have been led astray, as he had been, by a person like her.

  Ralph had a tongue, which was never at a loss to either praise or blame and Mrs. Delaford was equally ready to defend herself. The row became so acrimonious that the young man entirely lost his temper and rushed out of the room, declaring that he never wished to see Mrs. Delaford again.

  His departure was greeted with relief by Frank, who, now that he was left alone again with Mrs. Delaford, hoped to learn more information from her about her former fiancé Allen Acheson, whom he felt he must now reckon among his adversaries. But his hopes came to nothing, because Mrs. Delaford was so angry and excited that she refused to listen to another word. She put on her hat and mantle and with hardly a glance at the mirror, she rushed out of the surgery, saying that she would find Allen and make him revenge the insults that Ralph had uttered to her.

  All this happened so rapidly that the doctor felt as if a tornado had passed through his humble surgery. As peace and calm returned, however, he began to see that the Good Lord had directly intervened in his favor and had sent Mrs. Delaford and Ralph to him to supply him with new information. What Mrs. Delaford had said, incomplete as her statement was, had thrown some light on a scheme which up till then had been shaded in darkness. The relationship between Allen Acheson and Joseph Kennan explained why the Weasel had been so anxious to remove Mrs. Delaford from his life. It also vaguely explained the reason for the forged signatures extracted from a naïve Ralph.

  “Why is St. Ives founding a company at the very moment, when he is about to celebrate his marriage to Cora?”

  Frank wished to see the advertisement of the company for himself and without stopping to change his clothes, he ran out of the surgery and bought a newspaper. He found it in there, in a most conspicuous position, with all its promises most alluringly set forth. Nothing was wanting and there was even an image of a small mountain of diamonds, which represented the mines in full working operation. At the top, the name of the chairman, Baron Jason St. Ives, stood out in letters an inch in height.

  Frank stood gazing at this wonderful ad for fully five minutes, when all of a sudden a thought flashed across his mind.

  “I’m a fool,” he said to himself, “for standing here. Watchful eyes could be fixed on me, learning that I know more about the conspiracy than they thought I knew.”

  On his return to his surgery, he sat down for more than an hour, thinking over the whole affair. He was only once interrupted by a patient in need of cough syrup. It occurred to him that behind the surgery, there was a small garden, belonging to a public institution. A small wall divided his surgery from the garden and by exiting that way he could elude any spies, who might be waiting at the front of the building.

  “I can,” he thought, “also alter my appearance so that I will not be recognized. I should not return here for a few weeks. I can ask my friend Dr. Yoder, to take care of my patients and I know he will help me in every possible way.”

  By this means he hoped to escape from St. Ives and his spies and he would be able to watch their game without their having any suspicion. For the time being, of course, he had to give up seeing those, who had been helping him, Mr. Poiret, Mr. Greenstreet, Mrs. Diss and Count Bletchley.

  It was already dark, when he finished his letters to his friends, informing them of his plan to hide for a while. He went out, posted his letters and dined at the nearest restaurant.

  On his return, he proceeded to organize his disguise. He could use his clothes. He put dirt on them and cut them to pieces. He put paint on his shoes and his hat. Then he twisted down two locks of hair, which he managed to glue to his forehead. It was not for a long while that he was satisfied with the results that he had produced. He knotted an old handkerchief around his neck and clapped his hat on one side, slanting over one eye. He took a last glance in the mirror and a tramp stared back. He felt that he had rendered himself completely unrecognizable. There was a knock at his door. He was not expecting anyone at such an hour. The nurse and the waiters from the restaurant had already long gone.

  “Who is there?” he asked.

  “It’s I,” replied a weak voice. “Ralph Greenstreet.”

  Frank decided that he had no reason to distrust the young man and so he opened the door.

  “Has the doctor gone out?” asked the poor man faintly. “I though I heard his voice.”

  Ralph had not seen through his disguise and this was Frank’s first success. But he understood that he also had to change his voice, as well as his face.

  “Don’t you know me?” he asked.

  It was evident that young Ralph had received a terrible shock. It couldn’t have been the argument in the morning that had reduced him to this serious state of shock.

  “Oh, it’s you!”