At the end of a week so far as one could tell, he was forgotten.
The Indian civilian took his place at the principal table and Campbell moved into the room he had so long wanted.
'Now we shall have peace,' said Dr Lennox to Ashenden.
'When you think that I've had to put up with the quarrels and complaints of those two men for years and years ... Believe me, one has to have patience to run a sanatorium.
And to think that after all the trouble he's given me he had to end up like that and scare all those people out of their wits.'
'It was a bit of a shock, you know,' said Ashenden.
'He was a worthless fellow and yet some of the women have been quite upset about it.
Poor little Miss Bishop cried her eyes out.'
'I suspect that she was the only one who cried for him and not for herself.'
But presently it appeared that there was one person who had not forgotten him.
Campbell went about like a lost dog.
He wouldn't play bridge.
He wouldn't talk.
There was no doubt about it, he was moping for McLeod.
For several days he remained in his room, having his meals brought to him, and then went to Dr Lennox and said he didn't like it as well as his old one and wanted to be moved back.
Dr Lennox lost his temper, which he rarely did, and told him he had been pestering him to give him that room for years and now he could stay there or get out of the sanatorium.
He returned to it and sat gloomily brooding.
'Why don't you play your violin?' the matron asked him at length.
'I haven't heard you play for a fortnight.'
'I haven't.
'Why not?'
'It's no fun any more.
I used to get a kick out of playing because I knew it maddened McLeod.
But now nobody cares if I play or not.
I shall never play again.'
Nor did he for all the rest of the time that Ashenden was at the sanatorium.
It was strange, now that McLeod was dead life had lost its savour for him.
With no one to quarrel with, no one to infuriate, he had lost his incentive and it was plain that it would not be long before he followed his enemy to the grave.
But on Templeton McLeod's death had another effect, and one which was soon to have unexpected consequences.
He talked to Ashenden about it in his cool, detached way.
'Grand, passing out like that in his moment of triumph.
I can't make out why everyone got in such a state about it.
He'd been here for years, hadn't he?'
'Eighteen, I believe.'
'I wonder if it's worth it.
I wonder if it's not better to have one's fling and take the consequences.'
'I suppose it depends on how much you value life.'
'But is this life?'
Ashenden had no answer.
In a few months he could count on being well, but you only had to look at Templeton to know that he was not going to recover.
The death-look was on his face.
'D'you know what I've done?' asked Templeton.
'I've asked Ivy to marry me.'
Ashenden was startled.
'What did she say?'
'Bless her little heart, she said it was the most ridiculous idea she'd ever heard in her life and I was crazy to think of such a thing.'
'You must admit she was right.'
'Quite.
But she's going to marry me.'
'It's madness.'