“It’s Frank I’m really worried about.
He is so ill and so weak and helpless at this time, and I’m afraid that she may say or do things that might hurt him so terribly he would not want to live.
And, oh, he has been so liberal and so well-meaning toward her.
And just now when he needs love, not hate, and after all he has done for her, she is ready to do I don’t know what—abuse him so violently that he may suffer a relapse.
He’s told me many times that she always loses control of her emotions when she becomes jealous.”
“Yes, I know,” said James.
“He is a very great man, who has married the wrong woman, and to tell you the truth, I feared something of this kind.
I thought it unwise for you to be in the same hotel.
However, love is a powerful force, and I saw how deeply you cared for each other when I was in England.
But I also knew, as did many people, that his relations with Mrs. Cowperwood were unsatisfactory to him.
By the way, did you exchange any words with her?”
“Oh, no,” replied Berenice.
“I just saw her as I stepped out of the elevator, and her anger and opposition, as she recognized me, were so real that I felt it through my whole body.
It came to me that she might do something desperate to both of us, if she could.
Besides, I was afraid she might return to his apartment immediately.”
At this point Dr. James advised Berenice to stay in her suite until this storm subsided, and to wait until she heard from him.
Above all, as he instructed her, she was not to say a word to Cowperwood about this when she saw him again.
He was far too ill to endure it.
In the meantime, as he patiently explained, he would brave the anger of Mrs. Cowperwood and call her, to determine, if possible, what she might be doing or planning to say publicly.
And then he left Berenice to go to his own room to think the matter over.
However, before he had time to reach Aileen on the telephone, one of the nurses came into his room to ask if he would not please step in and look at Mr. Cowperwood; he seemed more restless than usual.
When he did so, he found Cowperwood stirring around in his bed as though he were uncomfortable.
And when he asked him how his visit with Aileen came out, he answered wearily:
“Oh, everything worked out all right, I think.
At least, I went over the most important points with her.
But somehow, Jeff, I feel very tired and exhausted from our long conversation.”
“Well, I expected that.
Next time, don’t talk for such a long time.
And now here is something for you to take.
It will give you a little rest for the present.”
And with that he handed Cowperwood a powder with a glass of water, which he swallowed as Dr. James added:
“Well, that will do for now, and I’ll look in on you a little later this afternoon.”
Whereupon he returned to his own room and called Aileen, who by that time had returned home.
Upon hearing his name announced by her maid, she came directly to the phone.
James, in his most courteous tone, told her he was calling to find out how her visit with her husband had worked out, and asked if there was anything he could do to help her.
Her voice was angry and uncontrolled as she spoke. “Yes, Dr. James, you can help me very much by not calling me any more, if you please, for I’ve just found out what has been going on all the time—in London and here—between my so-called husband and Miss Fleming.
I know she has been living with him there and is now living with him under your eyes, and apparently with your aid and approval.
And you want to know whether I had a satisfactory interview with him!
And that woman hiding in the same hotel!
It’s the most outrageous thing I ever heard of, and one which I’m sure the public will be glad to hear about!
And it will, depend on that!”
And then, her voice almost breaking with rage, she added: “You, a doctor!
A man supposed to be concerned with the decencies of life . . .”
Whereupon Dr. James, sensing the fierceness of her rage, managed to interrupt her sufficiently to say, forcefully but calmly: “Mrs. Cowperwood, I beg to take exception to your accusations.
I was called in on this case in a professional capacity, not as a judge of situations which are none of my making.
And you have no right to judge the motives of a man about whom you know as little as you do about me.
Whether you believe it or not, your husband is a very sick man, very, and if you make the grave error of giving out any story to the press, you will be hurting yourself a thousand times more than you could ever hurt him, or anyone connected with him.
For he not only has powerful friends, but admirers, as you know—friends who will deeply resent any such action as you propose, and who will not fail him.
If he dies, as he well may . . . well, judge for yourself how any such public attack as you have in mind will be received.”
These cutting words reminded Aileen of some of her own indiscretions in the not too distant past, and her voice suddenly lost some of its vibrato as she said: