The Crime of the French Cafe and Other Stories Part 40

Dr. Jarvis gave him little time for making his decision.

He hastily replaced the cloth, shuddering convulsively as he did so.

Then he returned to his room.

He sat down upon the edge of his cot, and held his head in his hands.

When he looked up his violent mood had pa.s.sed away. He seemed to wish to talk.

"It was a hideous dream," he said.

"Murder?" asked Nick.

"There was murder in it," replied the doctor. "I thought that I had killed--that I had killed a man."

"Patrick Deever?"

"How the devil did you know that?" cried the doctor, springing to his feet.

"Well, sir, the man has disappeared, and--"

"And somebody has been filling your head with foolish stories. Who was it?"

"Mr. Deever was asking some questions about his brother."

"And you told him everything you knew, and a good deal more, I suppose?"

"I didn't tell him anything."

"It's lucky for you that you didn't. Now, look here, Cleary, you know where your interest lies. Don't you lose a good job by talking too much."

"No, sir; I won't. But there's something in dreams, and--"

"There was agony in this one. I thought that I had killed Deever, and was obliged to hide his body. I felt that the police were close upon me.

"It seemed as if I had only one night in which to make myself safe. I thought first of burning the body in the furnace. Then it seemed best to use the acid. Heavens, I am glad to be awake again!"

"Such a dream as that means something, sir."

"It means this--that miserable, drunken rascal has disappeared, and I am likely to have trouble about it."

"He'll come back."

"I don't know about that. Perhaps he won't come back."

"Have you any idea where he is, sir?"

"Do you think I killed him, Cleary?"

"No, sir; certainly not."

"But suppose I did? What then?"

"Well, sir; it's a terrible thing. I--"

"Would you betray me?"

"I would not say a word unless I was sure that you were guilty."

"Even then, why should you speak?"

"There's a conscience, and--"

"Nonsense! What business is it of yours? Now look here; you think a good deal more about money than you do about your conscience. I've got money, and I'm willing to pay well to keep out of trouble."

"But I don't want to get into any."

"You won't. All you've got to do is to keep still."

"Keep still about what, sir?"

"This sleep-walking to-night."

"I won't say a word, unless--"

Nick hesitated. He wished to give the doctor the impression that his innocence was by no means clear, and that the idea of s.h.i.+elding a murderer was not to be entertained.

His acting was evidently successful.

"Look here, Cleary," said the doctor, "I don't trust you. There's just one thing that will satisfy me. You must get away."

The doctor was trembling violently. Evidently fear had taken possession of him.

"Get away?" asked Nick, as if surprised.

"Yes; I'm afraid of you. You will talk."

"But where shall I go?"

"Go to Australia," said Dr. Jarvis, after a moment's reflection. "You have no family. It makes no difference to you where you go, so long as you have money."

"How much money?"

"In that safe," said the doctor, pointing to a steel box in the corner, "there is enough to start you. I have about five thousand dollars in cash there, and I will send ten times as much more after you. Is that enough?"

"You take my breath away," said Nick. "When must I go?"

"At once; to-night."

"But, Dr. Jarvis--"