Meanwhile, Herrick fulfilled his duties of medical attendant to his friend, smiling grimly the while, that the need should come so comparatively early in their acquaintance. He had known Marsh-Carr but a little over five months. The meeting had taken place in July and it was now near Christmas. The doctor examined the wound on the back of the head. It was a nasty jagged cut, evidently made by some blunt instrument. "A big stick as the boy said, no doubt," mused Herrick as he plastered and bathed and bound it up. "Stephen is stunned for the time being, but I do not think that the brain is injured. His head is pretty hard. Frisco had good intentions, but not sufficient judgment to strike hard." For of course it was Frisco who had done this. Dr. Jim remembered what Mrs. Marsh had said and regretted that she had passed away without informing him more fully of what she knew about Frisco. That the ex-sailor should dare to come down to the scene of his first crime in order to commit a second (for at the moment Herrick credited Frisco rather than Joyce with the Carr murder) was wonderful enough, but his reason must be more wonderful still. It was impossible that he should be able to get the fortune even if he put Stephen out of the way, for he was a proven murderer, and if he showed himself would be at once arrested. Certainly he might explain all suspicions away, but that was doubtful in the face of such strong evidence. Yet, apparently he had made up his mind to remove Stephen, and get the money.
"But he won't if I can help it," muttered Herrick, "the beast. I'll carry Stephen to the vault myself so that the terms of the monthly visit may be fulfilled. Not that I don't think he will be on his feet sooner than Frisco expects. The job had been badly done."
He sent in a message to Beorminster by a groom, telling Bridge of the new outrage and advising a search to be made for Frisco. Then the patient having been attended to and the would-be assassin recommended to the attention of the police, Dr. Jim could do nothing more. He sat before the library fire and smoked, thinking deeply the while.
"I wonder if Joyce attempted this murder," he thought. "There is something queer about this stopping here. But that boy said Joyce was at Biffstead talking to his sisters, if I believe one part of that vision--and I am bound to do that--I must believe the other. Not Joyce then, but there is Don Manuel, he is connected with Robin in some underhand way. Besides, he professed to hate Carr, to regret the loss of the treasure. It might be he, if he has been with Corn all the night well and good--if not, he will have to account to me for his time. I do not believe in the little reptile."