My meditations were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. He
hummed and ha'd over me, but to my surprise asked me no questions
as to the cause of my misfortune, and did not, as I had feared,
suggest that his efforts should be seconded by those of the
police. On the contrary, he appeared, from an unobtrusive hint or
two, to be anxious that I should know that his discretion could
be trusted.
"You must not think of moving for a couple of days," he said;
"but then, I think we can get you away without danger and quite
quietly."
I thanked him; he promised to look in again; I murmured something
about his fee.
"Oh, thank you, that is all settled," he said. "Your friend Herr
Schmidt has seen to it, and, my dear sir, most liberally."
He was hardly gone when 'my friend Herr Schmidt'--alias Rudolf
Rassendyll--was back. He laughed a little when I told him how
discreet the doctor had been.
"You see," he explained, "he thinks you've been very indiscreet.
I was obliged, my dear Fritz, to take some liberties with your
character. However, it's odds against the matter coming to your
wife's ears."
"But couldn't we have laid the others by the heels?"
"With the letter on Rupert? My dear fellow, you're very ill.
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