The Secret of the Tower | Page 6

Miss Wall, that's right, we go to town every
Wednesday. No particular reason why it should be Wednesday, but old
gentlemen somehow do better--don't you think so?--with method and
regular habits."
"I'm sure you know what's best for Mr. Saffron," said Delia. "You've

known him a long time, haven't you?"
Mr. Naylor drew a little nearer and listened. The General had put
himself into the corner, a remote corner of the room, and sat there with
an uneasy and rather glowering aspect.
"Oh no, no!" answered Beaumaroy. "A matter of weeks only. But the
dear old fellow seemed to take to me--a friend put us in touch
originally. I seem to be able to do just what he wants."
"I hope your friend is not really ill, not seriously?" This time the
question was Mrs. Naylor's, not Miss Delia's.
"His health is really not so bad, but," he gave a glance round the
company, as though inviting their understanding, "he insists that he's
not the man he was."
"Absurd!" smiled Naylor. "Not much older than I am, is he?"
"Only just turned seventy, I believe. But the idea's very persistent."
"Hypochondria!" snapped Miss Delia.
"Not altogether. I'm afraid there is a little real heart trouble. Dr.
Irechester--"
"Oh, with Dr. Irechester, dear Mr. Beaumaroy, you're all right!"
Again Beaumaroy's glance--that glance of innocent appeal--ranged
over the company (except the General, out of its reach). He seemed
troubled and embarrassed.
"A most accomplished man, evidently, and a friend of yours, of course.
But, well, there it is, a mere fancy, of course, but unhappily my old
friend doesn't take to him. He, he thinks that he's rather inquisitorial. A
doctor's duty, I suppose--"
"Irechester's a sound man, a very sound man," said Mr. Naylor. "And,
after all one can ask almost any question if one does it tactfully, can't

one, Miss Wall?"
"As a matter of fact, he's only seen Mr. Saffron twice--he had a little
chill. But his manner, unfortunately, rather, er--alarmed--"
Gertie Naylor, with the directness of youth, propounded a solution of
the difficulty. "If you don't like Dr. Irechester--"
"Oh, it's not I who--"
"Why not have Mary?" Gertie made her suggestion eagerly. She was
very fond of Mary, who, from the height of age, wisdom and
professional dignity, had stooped to offer her an equal friendship.
"She means Dr. Mary Arkroyd," Mrs. Naylor explained.
"Yes, I know, Mrs. Naylor, I know about Dr. Arkroyd. In fact, I know
her by sight. But--"
"Perhaps you don't believe in women doctors?" Alec suggested.
"It's not that. I've no prejudices. But the responsibility is on me, and I
know very little of her; and, well to change one's doctor, it's rather
invidious--"
"Oh, as to that, Irechester's a sensible man; he's got as much work as he
wants, and as much money too. He won't resent an old man's fancy."
"Well, I'd never thought of a change, but if you all suggest it--"
Somehow it did seem as if they all, and not merely youthful Gertie had
suggested it. "But I should rather like to know Dr. Arkroyd first."
"Come and meet her here; that's very simple. She often comes to tennis
and tea. We'll let you know the first time she's coming."
Beaumaroy most cordially accepted the idea and the invitation. "Any
afternoon I shall be delighted, except Wednesdays. Wednesdays are
sacred, aren't they, Miss Wall? London on Wednesdays for Mr. Saffron
and me, and the old brown bag!" He laughed in a quiet merriment.

"That old bag's been in a lot of places with me and has carried some
queer cargoes. Now it just goes to and fro, between here and town, with
Mudie books. Must have books, living so much alone as we do!" He
had risen as he spoke, and approached Mrs. Naylor to take leave.
She gave him her hand very cordially. "I don't suppose Mr. Saffron
cares to meet people; but any spare time you have, Mr. Beaumaroy, we
shall be delighted to see you."
Beaumaroy bowed as he thanked her, adding, "And I'm promised a
chance of meeting Dr. Arkroyd before long?"
The promise was renewed and the visitor took his leave, declining
Alec's offer to "run him home" in the car. "The car might startle my old
friend," he pleaded. Alec saw him off, and returned to find the General,
who had contrived to avoid more than a distant bow of farewell to
Beaumaroy, standing on the hearthrug apparently in a state of some
agitation.
The envious years had refused to Major-General Punnit, C.B.--he was a
distant cousin of Mrs. Naylor's--the privilege of serving his country in
the Great War. His career had lain mainly in India and was mostly
behind him even at the date of the South African War, in which,
however, he