The Mynns' Mystery Part 19

"Look sharp, please," came in a voice full of remonstrance, as the gentlemen hurried down to the gate, to find a desperate struggle going on in the fly, where the driver was seated with his head tucked down upon his chest to avoid blows, while he held his fare tightly round the waist. "Ah, that's better. Take hold of his fisties, somebody. He's reg'lar mad."

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Saul, seizing one of the struggling man's arms, while Doctor Lawrence got hold of the other, and between them they drew the sufferer out of the fly on to his knees by the gate.

"That's better," said the fly-man. "Lucky I've got my quiet old mare.

He gave such a jump once, he startled even her."

"Here, lend a hand," said the doctor sharply, as his patient began to struggle furiously, and tried to fling them off, "all of you. We're four. We'll take a wrist each, Hampton. You two young men take an ankle apiece."

"Why, that's same as they does the sojers when they're a bit on," said the fly-man.

"No, no," cried the doctor. "The other way. Not face downwards."

The patient was in a sitting position on the gravel, laughing idiotically, and trying to troll out portions of a song, but as he felt himself seized and lifted from the ground his whole manner changed: he struggled furiously, his face became distorted, and he burst forth into a tirade of oaths and curses directed at all in turn.

"Steady, guv'nor!" said the fly-man, as he held on tightly to one leg.

"Steady, you ain't a swimming. Kicks out like a frog."

"Don't let go, whatever you do," said the doctor.

"Not I, sir. I'll hold on. My! he have had his whack. We can do a bit of a swear here in England, but these American gents could give any of us fifty out of a hundred."

"Be silent, man!" said the lawyer sternly, as they neared the flight of stone steps leading up to the front door. Then aloud, "Rachel, take Miss Bellwood to the dining-room and stay there."

Mrs Hampton took Gertrude's hand, but she was quietly repulsed, and the girl stood just inside the hall, as the sick man was carried up the stone steps, and then into the study, where they placed him on a couch, from which he tried to struggle up, cursing and blaspheming all the time.

"Had you not better go, Gertrude?" whispered Saul, as he left the other three holding his companion down.

She paid no heed to his words, but stood holding Mrs Hampton's wrist, gazing down at the struggling brute.

"Here you, Mr Saul, get something--a table cover will do, or a rope.

We must tie him down. Better go, Miss Gertrude. I'll get him calm after a bit."

Gertrude made no reply even to this, but stood gazing as if fascinated, and shuddering slightly as she heard the coa.r.s.e, ruffianly language and blasphemies directed at all in turn.

"This settles it," said Mrs Hampton to herself, as, in obedience to a summons, Mrs Denton brought in a couple of sheets, and then stood weeping silently and wringing her hands, as she saw the doctor deftly fold the sheets, and pa.s.sing one across the struggling man's chest, give place to Saul, who knelt upon his friend, while the broad bandage was tightly secured right under the couch.

A second band was fastened across his legs, and then Mr Hampton turned to the fly-man, who stood smiling at the scene.

"Thankye, sir," he said, touching his forehead. "Like such a job every day. Lor'," he said to himself, as he went down the gravel path to the iron gates, "when gents does go it, they does go it and no mistake.

That must be champagne, that must; beer and gin wouldn't never make me like him."

"Now," said the doctor, as soon as the fly-man had driven off, "I must have this got from the nearest chemist's. Under the circ.u.mstances, Mr Saul, I must ask you to go and fetch it. They'll be shut up for the night, but I must have the drugs."

"I don't know what you mean, Doctor Lawrence, by 'under the circ.u.mstances.' If you think I am to blame for my friend, George Harrington's illness, you are sadly mistaken. It is an attack of Western or swamp fever, I presume."

"Undoubtedly," said the doctor drily.

"Bring the whiskey," shouted the prisoner, in a hoa.r.s.e yell.

"May I ask you to fetch this medicine, Mr Saul?" said the doctor again.

"Certainly," replied Saul; and as he took the paper, he gave Gertrude an imploring look, that changed to one of sympathy as he pa.s.sed out.

The look was lost upon Gertrude, whose eyes were fixed upon the struggling, blaspheming man bound on the couch, and who could only be kept in his place by Mr Hampton sitting upon him. She had been entreated, again and again, to leave the room, but had refused as if determined to see all.

"Nasty fit," said the doctor coolly, as he gave the lawyer a peculiar look.

"Yes. I never saw a worse."

"Here," cried the patient, with a hoa.r.s.e roar. "Get some whisk'.

Throat's like--like--what you call it. Hullo, old mother 'Ampton, you there! Where's old Saul?"

He burst out into an idiotic fit of laughter, and looked from one to the other.

"Where's Gertie?" he cried at last; "where's little la.s.sie? Fesh her here. Got t'headache. She's good f'readache. Curse you, what are you doing. Let's get up."

There was another fierce struggle, but the bandages held firm, and he lay panting for a time.

"Man must joy self sometimes. Ah, there you are, little one. It's all right--it's all right."

His eyes closed, and he lay pa.s.sive for quite a quarter of an hour, the doctor watching every change, and at last joining his entreaties to those of Mrs Hampton.

"You had better go, Gertrude, my dear. You can do no good. I shall stay here by him--perhaps all night. He'll be better in the morning."

"Never better to me," thought Gertrude, as she looked wistfully in the doctor's eyes. But she shook her head and intimated that she should stay.

"But it is not a fit scene for you, my child," whispered Mrs Hampton tenderly.

"I cannot help it, I may be of use. Doctor Lawrence," she said aloud, piteously, as with a faint hope that she might be deceived, and that she was unjust in attributing the trouble to drink, "are such fits likely to return?"

"Eh? Hum! Well, really, my dear, it all depends upon the patient himself. Ah! here's Mr Saul."

"Eh? Saul?" yelled the patient. "Where's old Saul? More whiskey. Ah, would you!"

He burst out into such a torrent of tall swearing as is said to be peculiar to the mule-drivers of the Far West, and Gertrude shuddered as the hot words came pouring forth.

"That's right, Mr Saul. Now, Mrs Denton, a wine-gla.s.s, and a little cold water, please."

These were obtained, and as the c.h.i.n.k of bottle against gla.s.s was heard, the patient shouted aloud, and strained to sit up and reach the gla.s.s held out to him, and whose contents he swallowed instantly.

"What's that?" he shouted; "not whisk--That you, Saul boy. Come here-- come--"

He stopped short, uttered a furious oath, and made a bound to set himself free, but sank back inert and lay staring in a ghastly manner at the ceiling.

The doctor laid his hand upon his patient's heart, felt his pulse, and then bent down over him anxiously.

"Here," he said quickly, "where is that prescription, Mr Saul?"