Читать книгу Blind Policy - Fenn George Manville - Страница 4

“There, I promise I will be quiet and say nothing, if you let me stay. If you do not, I’ll give the alarm in spite of you all.”

“Pat! He’s waking up.”

With the tones of the sweet, rich voice thrilling his nerves, Fred Chester opened his eyes as he sat back in his chair, and gazed up at the cluster of soft lights glowing by the ceiling; but they did not take his attention. He was dwelling wonderingly upon the words he had heard as if in a dream.

His head was heavy and confused, and it was some moments before he could grasp his position. “Who’s waking up?” he thought. Then his eyes fell, and he looked sharply down, and the blood rushed surging to his temples as he saw his beautiful visitor of the night before, then all came back in a moment.

She was kneeling beside the wounded man’s couch, holding his hand, and she gazed at Chester with an appealing, wistful look in her eyes which again sent a thrill through him, and a feeling of misery and despair such as he had never before felt made his heart sink. He shivered slightly as he turned away, to glance round the room and note that four of those whom he had previously seen were still present.

“You’ve had a good nap, doctor,” said a familiar voice.

“Have – have I been asleep?” said Chester, involuntarily.

“Beautifully. What a delightfully clear conscience you must have, doctor!” said the speaker, banteringly, “that is, if you did not take a chloral pill on the sly. Six hours right off.”

“Impossible!” cried Chester, angrily.

“Then my watch is a most awful liar, and the clock on the chimney-piece there has joined in the conspiracy.”

Chester hurriedly took out his watch, to find that the hands stood at two, as he bent down over his patient, who was sleeping calmly.

“We gave him a dose of the drops as soon as the bottle came, doctor, for we did not like to wake you after your hard night. He has slept like a lamb ever since.”

Chester took no notice of the words, as he busied himself about his patient, the lady drawing back and going to a chair, waiting impatiently till he ceased.

“How is he?” she said then excitedly.

“He could not be doing better, madam,” said Chester, trying to speak coldly, and avoiding for a moment the eyes which seemed to plunge searchingly into his; and at his words he saw that they suddenly grew dim, and that she clapped her hands to her lips to keep back a piteous sob or two.

“Hush, hush, my dearest,” whispered the old housekeeper in a motherly way, and Chester saw that a strong effort was made, and the face from which he could not tear his eyes grew calm.

“Well, doctor, if ever I am in a bad fix, I shall know where to apply.”

Chester turned sharply to the speaker, and read from the cynical smile that he had seen the impression made upon him by the agitated face which possessed so strange a fascination.

“You prove yourself quite worthy of your reputation, which has often reached us.”

“Any surgeon could have done what I have, sir,” replied Chester, shortly, and then mastering himself, he continued, as he thought of home and all he had at stake, “I presume that now you are at rest about your cousin’s state, this sorry farce is at an end.”

“Very nearly a tragedy, my dear sir,” said the other, lightly.

“You mistake me, sir. I mean this enforced detention.”

“Oh, tut, tut, doctor! I thought we had settled this. Surely after your telegram, taken to the chief office, madam, your wife, will not be uneasy.”

As he spoke he gave the lady by the couch a mocking look, and Chester saw her turn angrily away.

It was on the doctor’s lips to say sharply, “I am not married, sir,” and he felt startled as he checked himself.

Why should he have been so eager to say that? he thought, and a peculiar feeling of resentment grew within, as a strange conscience-pricking began to startle him. Of what folly had he been guilty in thought?

“Come, doctor, we have been waiting till you woke before having some breakfast.”

The speaker rose and touched the electric bell-push, then led the way toward a small table at the far end of the room, the others waiting for the doctor to follow; but he stood irresolute.

“You will join us at breakfast, doctor?” said a low, sweet voice at his side, making him start slightly, and then follow to the table, to take the place pointed out by his companion on her right, as she took the head of the table.

“As his wife,” thought Chester; then trying hard to be perfectly cool, and assuming to be treating his position lightly, he partook of the meal placed before him, and joined in the general conversation, a great deal of which dealt with the popular out-door life of the day – Lord’s, Ascot, the promises of sport in August and September, and the ordinary topics of the hour, all lightly traversed by a party of gentlemen who had ample incomes for their needs, and enjoyed life.

The ladies were increased to three when they took their seats at the table, and Chester soon found that two were the young wives of “Jem” and “Paddy,” the bluff, manly fellow; and all seemed so intent now upon ignoring the trouble and setting their prisoner guest at his ease, that Chester’s manner softened, and before they rose from the table he found himself listening with increasing interest to his neighbour’s remarks.

The excellent meal came at last to an end, and after a few words with Chester’s companion, two of the ladies retired while the housekeeper quietly cleared the table; and as Marion, as they all called her, went to the side of the couch, Jem approached Chester.

“The papers,” he said in the most matter-of-fact way. “Cigars and cigarettes on that table. Spirits and soda or seltzer in the cellarette. Pray make yourself at home, my dear doctor, and name anything you want. It shall be obtained directly – everything, that is, but liberty. Won’t you light up now? My cousin there will not mind; we all smoke. Eh, Marion?”

“I beg that Dr Chester will not hesitate,” said the lady addressed, and Chester drew a deep breath as he saw her cross to the table and fetch a cigarette-box and matches.

“It would be ungracious to refuse,” he said coldly, as he took one, and then the lighted match from the white fingers which offered it, their eyes meeting as he lit his cigarette, and as a slight flush mantled the lady’s cheeks, Chester’s heart gave one heavy throb.

The rest of that night-like day passed in a dream, or a time in which Chester felt as if he were suffering from some form of enchantment. He fought hard against the strange, new, mystic influence, and strove to raise like a shield to protect him, his honour, his word; and again and again as he busied himself with his patient he told himself that he dearly loved Isabel, his betrothed, but this feeling was all as new as it was masterful, and often when he met the eyes of her who never left the couch in her assiduous attentions as nurse, he felt that he was drifting fast into a state of slavery, and that this woman was his fate.

“She is another’s wife,” he kept telling himself; “and I am an utter scoundrel to give way to such thoughts. Heaven help me! I must go before it is too late. Have I been drugged, and has the potent medicament sapped me to the very core?”

But he felt that he could not go as yet, for though it was unnoticed by the others, he saw that a change for the worse had taken place toward evening, at a time when all had left the room but the big, athletic fellow and Marion, they being evidently left on guard while a short rest was taken.

Paddy was sitting back smoking, with his eyes half-closed; but he suddenly roused himself up and came across to the couch.

“How is he getting on?” he whispered.

Chester was silent, and after glancing at him, Marion spoke —

“He is better; sleeping well, and in less pain.”

“Don’t look better,” grunted the young man, and he glanced at his watch. “Dinner at eight. Like to go and lie down, Marion?”

“No,” was the quiet reply.

“All right,” said the young man, and he walked back to his seat, while Marion waited for a few moments, and then, gazing wistfully at Chester, said in a low whisper —

“You did not speak. He is better, is he not?”

The young doctor made no reply, but sat there breathing hard, as if fascinated.

“I cannot tell you how grateful I feel to you,” she continued. “Your coming here has saved poor dear Robert’s life. I know how strange it all must seem to you, but I – we dare not let you go. It is such a terrible emergency.”

“Yes,” he said softly, “and I have done my best.”

“But I cannot help reading it in your eyes, doctor – you are thinking of leaving.”

He started slightly, and then turned his eyes to his patient so as to avoid the gaze which held him in spite of the mental struggle against what seemed to be fate.

“Well,” he said, as he laid his hand upon the sufferer’s brow, “I am. Is it not natural? Yes,” he whispered hoarsely, “by some means I must and will leave this house to-night.”

Her face grew convulsed, and for a few moments she was silent. Then in a low, impassioned whisper, she reached across the couch to lay her hand upon his arm, the contact seeming to send a hot flush through every nerve, and he turned to gaze at her with a look half horror, half delight.

“And you hold his life in your hands,” she murmured piteously. “What can I say? – what can I do to move you? Doctor, he is everything to me in this world. If he – died, I could not live.”

“For Heaven’s sake, don’t look at me – don’t speak to me like that!” he whispered back, and he took her hand to remove it from his arm, shivering as if it were some venomous thing; but it turned and clung to his fast, and was joined by the other. “Madam, I have done, and am doing, everything I can to save your husband’s life, and – ”

He ceased speaking, for he saw her lips part in a smile, and her wild eyes grew soft and humid, as, with a little laugh, she said —

“Dearest Rob! My husband!” Then she loosed the hand she held, laid hers upon the head of the couch, and bending down she softly pressed her lips against the patient’s brow, while a feeling of bitter jealousy sent the blood surging through Chester’s brain, till the eyes were turned again to his, and, with a look that sent every forming manly intention flying to the winds, she said softly —

“Why did you think that? Doctor, for a poor, pleading woman’s sake, give up all thought of going. I could not bear it. There – look – his face is growing convulsed,” she whispered in a quick, agitated tone, “And you talk of going! He is dying. Robert! Robert! Oh, doctor, do you not see?”