When Mr Armstrong, having with some difficulty taken in who and where
he was, proceeded, as was natural under the circumstances, to feel for
his eye-glass, he discovered that his right arm hung powerless at his
side, and refused to perform its familiar functions. The next thing he
was aware of was that Rosalind and the doctor were kneeling on the rocks
beside the senseless form of Roger, who lay, white as a corpse, with the
blood trickling from a gash on the temple. Then Jill crept beside him,
pale and sobbing, and said something, he did not hear what. Finally the
ruddy countenance of Tom dawned upon him, and made him aware, even in
the midst of his dream, that one person at least had thoroughly enjoyed
the day's adventures, and was no whit the worse either for the fright or
the drenching.
How they all got up to Maxfield the tutor was never able to say, for the
pain of his broken arm became so intense that he was as near swooning as
he had ever been in his life, and but for the timely services of the
doctor, who was able to give him some little relief, he might have
disgraced himself for ever by fainting light off. He remembered seeing
Roger lying in the carriage with eyes half open, his head on Rosalind's
shoulder. And he remembered feeling his own hand held fast in the two
hands of his little champion.
The next thing he was conscious of was that he was in his own bed, with
his arm firmly bound beside him, and the friendly face of Dr Brandram
bent over him.
"That's better, isn't it, old fellow?" said the latter. "It's a wonder
it was only the arm. You must keep quiet now, for you shipped a lot of
water, and were a quarter drowned into the bargain."
"What about Roger?"
"He'll do now--at least I hope so. I was concerned about him at first,
but he came round. I envy you your plunge. Just my luck! All the big
things are done by the other fellows, and I'm left to hold on to the
rope and order the physic. Never mind. I never expected to see either
of you out of that caldron. I certainly could never have come out
myself."
"Miss Oliphant--is she all right?"
"Right as a trivet; and has mounted guard over her cousin already. If
he doesn't get well with her for nurse, he's an obstinate, customer."
"Thanks, Brandram. Come again soon."
Captain Oliphant's concern at this untoward misadventure may well be
imagined. He shed tears with the mother over their "dear one's" narrow
escape, and censured in terms of righteous indignation all who had been
parties to the hazardous expedition.
He cross-examined the doctor as to the dangers to be apprehended from
the patient's present condition, and shook his head gloomily at the
probable consequences of so terrible a shock to his already fragile
constitution. He summoned his three children into his presence to be
severally kissed in recognition of their deliverance, and sent a message
by Raffles to Mr Armstrong to say that he was glad to hear his injuries
were only of a slight nature, and trusted he would take what time was
necessary from his duties to make a proper recovery. After which, in a
passably good-humour, he returned to his room, and wondered what
improvements he should make at Maxfield if, by any melancholy
dispensation of Providence, the property should fall into his unworthy
hands.
Of course there were the usual thorns among the roses. Mrs Ingleton,
ill herself, was far too painfully absorbed in her boy's danger to lend
an ear to the tender nothings of her sympathetic kinsman. And the whole
party were so possessed with the notion that Mr Armstrong was something
of a hero, that any suggestion to the contrary was just then clearly
inopportune.
The main fact, however, was that Roger Ingleton, Minor--dear lad--was
very ill indeed.
"I trust, doctor," said the captain, about a fortnight after the
accident, to Dr Brandram, who was quitting the house with a decidedly
long face, "I trust our dear young patient is on a good road now to
recovery."
"I don't like the look of him, I must confess," replied the doctor;
"but, with perfect quiet and nothing to excite him, he will pull round.
The one thing to be dreaded is excitement. The lungs we have got well
in hand, but that blow on his temple makes an ugly complication."
"Poor fellow. Is there nothing one can do?"
"Let him alone, with your sweet daughter to nurse him. She is an angel,
Captain Oliphant, if you'll excuse my saying so."
"She knows, as we all do, how precious his life is. And how is your
other patient?"
"Armstrong? Practically well. I have given him leave to get up. He
has the constitution of a tiger. I wish we could give some of it to the
boy."
"Ah, indeed!" said the captain, with a sigh.
On the following day, a desire took possession of the guardian to visit
his dear ward in the sick-chamber. Rosalind, who had clung to her post,
defiant of fatigue and sleep, had been prevailed upon in deference to
her father's peremptory command to seize an hour's sleep in her own
room.
"I will sit with him myself," said the captain. "You must not be
selfish, my child, in using your privilege. You forget that what
gratifies you may also be a pleasure to others. I am going to town in a
few days. Who knows if I may see the dear fellow again."
"Father!" exclaimed Rosalind, seizing his arm almost roughly; "he is
getting better. The doctor says so."
"My poor child," said her father, with a forced cheerfulness far more
terrifying to the girl than his previous melancholy, "I was wrong to
alarm you. Yes, of course he is getting better; of course. Come, we
must all be brave."
Rosalind, quite broken down, went to her bed and cried herself to sleep.
When the captain entered the sick-chamber, he found the mother at the
bedside.
"My dear Eva," said he, "let me beg you to take a little rest. I will
remain here. Do give me the pleasure for once. You know how I shall
value the privilege."
Mrs Ingleton, who was in truth fairly worn out, was fain to consent, on
condition that she should be called at once if necessary.
Having escorted her affectionately to the door, Captain Oliphant seated
himself at the bedside, and looked hard at his ward.
The boy lay in a feverish doze, his large dark eyes half-closed, and his
head turning now and again restlessly on the pillow.
"My poor dear fellow," said his guardian, bending over him, "how do you
feel this afternoon!"
"Better, I think. Where's Rosalind?"
"Gone to bed. I am really afraid of her becoming ill. She looks so
pale and worn."
"She was so good to me," said Roger. "I never thought of her getting
ill. How long have I been ill?" he asked.
"Three weeks, my boy. What a narrow escape you had. You know I never
heard yet what happened that day in the boat. How did it all happen?"
Whereupon Roger, rousing himself still more, began to go over the events
of that memorable day, which at that distance of time seemed to loom out
in his mind more terrible than at the time.
His guardian, deeply interested in the narrative, drew him out into a
full and particular account of all that passed: the picnic on the
island, the sudden storm, the drive before the wind, the awful roar of
the surf on the shore, what each one said and thought and prepared for,
and then of the crowning excitement of the rescue, the struggle in the
water, and the drowning sensations.
When all was told the boy's head fell exhausted on the pillow, his chest
heaved, and he lay half muttering to himself, half moaning, a pitiful
spectacle of weakness and exhaustion.
When, an hour later, Rosalind glided in, her father walked with finger
to his lips to meet her.
"Make no noise," said he, "the dear lad is sleeping. Don't disturb him
whatever you do."
That was a bad night in the sick-room. The fever rose higher and
higher. Roger tossed and moaned ceaselessly all night, and for the
first time wandered in his talk. Armstrong, who looked in once or
twice, durst not let himself be seen by the patient for fear of adding
to his excitement. A midnight messenger was despatched for Dr
Brandram, who came, looking very grave, and remained at the bedside all
night. Captain Oliphant was indefatigable in his inquiries and
attentions. He denied himself his natural sleep in order to linger near
the dear one's door and feed on the crumbs of information which from
time to time came out. He insisted on lending Dr Brandram a pair of
his own slippers, and besought Armstrong, with his bad arm, to take care
of himself and go shares in his brandy and water.
Finally, when the doctor peremptorily ordered every one to bed, he
retired in a chastened mood to his own room, where he packed his trunk
and smoked his cigar thoughtfully till daylight struggled through the
windows.
Then he took a brief nap in his arm-chair, and was astir in time to meet
the doctor as he descended to the hall.
"What news?" he asked.
"Don't ask me," said the doctor; "my calculations are completely upset.
Something has excited him. Whom did he see yesterday?"
"Only my daughter and his mother, and, for a short time, myself."
"Was he at all disturbed while you were there?"
"On the contrary, he was drowsy when I entered and drowsy when I left.
He may possibly have caught sight of Mr Armstrong when he looked in."
"He should not have come near him in his present state. Anything that
reminds him of the accident is bad for him."
"Dear, dear, what a pity! No doubt the boy caught sight of him. Tell
me, doctor--may I venture up to town for a day or two on important
business? If you thought I should stay--"
"No. I hope it's not quite as bad as that; but you should leave word
where a message will find you, if necessary. Good day."
"I'm not quite such a fool," growled the doctor to himself as he walked
to the stables, "as you think me, my fine fellow. If you were in the
room half an hour last night this is all explained. To think that you
are the father of that ministering angel, too!"
The captain, in a spirit of subdued cheerfulness, travelled up that
afternoon to town. The weather was superb. The country, rich with
harvest, looked beautiful. The carriage was unusually comfortable, and
the cigars magnificent. Altogether this good man felt that he had much
to be thankful for, and quietly wondered within himself whether, on his
arrival at the "Langham" Hotel, he should find a telegram from Maxfield
already awaiting him.
Instead, he found what pleased him decidedly less, a telegram from
Southampton.
"Business keeps me here for a week--arrive London Friday evening.
"Ratman."
The captain expressed himself to himself as greatly annoyed by this
simple message, and for the rest of that evening quite lost his natural
gaiety.
Next morning, however, not being a man to waste the precious hours, he
decided, like a dutiful son of his _alma mater_, to take a little run to
Oxford.
He had still in his pocket a certain memorandum, made long ago, of the
name of a certain college at that seat of learning, at which, at a
certain date, of which he had also a note, a person in whom he felt
interested had been a student. Why not improve the occasion by a few
inquiries on the spot as to the academical career of that interesting
person? It was a brilliant idea, no sooner conceived than executed.
That afternoon, among a crowd of returning undergraduates at ---
College, might have been seen the well-dressed military form of a
certain gentleman, who politely inquired for the senior tutor.
"I have called sir, on behalf of a friend of mine in India, to inquire
respecting a Mr Frank Armstrong, who is, or was a year or two since, an
undergraduate here."
"Armstrong, Armstrong?--no man of that name here at present. Ah, I
fancy we had a man here of that name some years since."
"Could you conveniently inform me how long it is since he left?"
The tutor referred to his lists.
"He left three years ago. I remember him now--well."
"My friend would be extremely grateful for any information. He has lost
sight of him since he was at Oxford."
"Well, the fact is Armstrong was not a particular success here. He was
a fairly good scholar, and athlete too, I believe, but his course here
ended abruptly."
"Dear, dear! Do you mean to say he was expelled?"
"Hardly so. But he left the place heavily in debt. At the end of his
second year he wrote to the authorities to say that the source of supply
on which he had depended for paying his college and other bills (which
had accumulated to a very considerable extent) had suddenly ceased, and
he was unable to meet his obligations. As he was in destitution, he
could make no suggestion for meeting them, and requested us to accept an
undertaking from him to discharge them if possible at a future time.
Under the circumstances he was informed that he was not to come up
again, and his name was struck off the books. I believe that since then
a few of his debts have been reduced by small instalments."
"I am very grieved to hear what you tell me. Could you very kindly tell
me the address from which he last wrote?"
"If I remember, it was from a coffee-house in London, and he mentioned
that he was hoping to obtain employment as a private tutor in a family."
"Well, sir, although this is very disagreeable news for my friend. I am
sure he will thank you all the same. I suppose you have no idea, beyond
this address in London, what became of him?"
"None."
"Or where he lived before he came to Oxford?"
"I was looking for that. I see the address on the entrance form is 3,
Blue Street, London."
Captain Oliphant made a note of the address, and after effusive thanks,
said good-bye.
He spent two interesting days in Oxford looking about him and enjoying
himself considerably. But although he met several men whose names he
knew, and made several new acquaintances, he was unable to hear anything
further of the defaulting undergraduate of --- College.
On his return to town, as he had still a day or two to spare, this
industrious gentleman, with a good deal of trouble, found out Number 3,
Blue Street. For a person of his refined tastes it was in a shockingly
low neighbourhood near one of the docks, and Blue Street itself was one
of the shadiest--metaphorically--of its streets.
It consisted mainly of slop shops, patronised by the shipping interest,
and displaying wares of which one half at least might be safely counted
upon as stolen property. Number Three, which for some unexplained
reason was located half-way down the street, was an establishment of
this sort, very offensive to the nose and not at all agreeable to the
eye. Old clothes of every fashion and antiquity hung exposed in the
dingy window, while within a still larger assortment lay piled up on the
counter. Nor were the clothes all. Second-hand watches, marlinspikes,
compasses, spoons, books, boxes, and curiosities crowded the narrow
space, in the midst of which the shrivelled old lady who called herself
proprietress was scarcely visible.
"Come in--don't be afraid," cried she, as the captain paused doubtfully
at the door.
"Is this Number 3, my good woman?"
"Look over the door--'aint you got no eyes?"
"Number 3, Blue Street--this is Blue Street, is it not?"
"If yer doubts it, go and read the name at the end of the street. What
do you want? Clothes or money?"
"Neither--I want information," replied the captain.
"Then yer've come to the wrong shop. Don't sell it 'ere, so clear out.
Do you think I don't know what you're arter?"
"Very well," said the captain, "that will be so much saved. I shall
have to get for nothing what I meant to pay for."
She looked at him doubtfully and growled.
"Why can't yer say what yer want instead of talking gibberish there?"
"If this is Number 3, Blue Street, and you are the same person who was
here five years ago--"
"Go on."
"I may have something to give you from an old lodger; but not till I'm
sure you have a right to it."
"What, _him_?"
"Very likely," said the captain, calmly lighting a cigarette. "I shall
know if you're right, I dare say."
"Right? Do you suppose I'm made of lodgers! 'Aint you talking about
the singing chap--Armstrong he called himself, but at the Hall they
called him Signor something--Francisco or the likes of that."
The captain pricked his ears with a vengeance, and in his eagerness
rattled the keys encouragingly in his trouser pocket.
"That won't do," said he. "I must have come to the wrong place after
all. What sort of looking man was he, and where did he come from?"
"He'd got a pair of arms would knock you into the middle of next week,
and when he went down to the Hall--"
"Which Hall?"
"The `Dragon' Music-Hall--what, don't you know it! go on with you--when
he went there he flashed it with an eye-glass. Lor', you should 'ave
heard him sing! He'd a made your hair curl; it was lovely."
"Ah! he wore an eye-glass and sang, did he?" said the captain. "And
where did he come from, and what became of him when he left you?"
"Come from? I don't know. The other end of the world, I fancy myself.
Where he went to I don't know neither. I fancy myself he took up with a
bad lot at the Hall, and turned me up. Howsomever, I got my dues out of
him, so it's no concern of mine. There you are, mister. Now, what have
you got for me?"
The captain looked doubtful and shook his head.
"I'm afraid it's not right after all," said he. "It doesn't correspond
with the particulars I have. Had you no other lodgers?"
"What did I tell you," snarled the woman, perceiving she was to be done
out of her reward after all. "Come, are you going to give me what you
promised or not? If you 'aint, clear out of here, my beauty, or I'll
break every bone of your ugly body."
And since, with a stick in her hand, she looked very like putting her
threat into execution, the captain beat a hasty retreat, chuckling to
himself at the thought of his own excellent cleverness.
"Upon my word," said he to himself as he strolled westward, "I am having
a most interesting time. What a versatile genius my co-trustee appears
to be--a tutor to an heir, a defaulting and rusticated undergraduate, a
penniless music-hall cad. Dear, dear! what a curious settlement of
scores we shall have, to be sure--or rather, should have had, had our
poor dear Roger remained with us. Heigho! what a curious sensation it
will be, to be sure, to own a fortune."
At the hotel the porter met him with a telegram. He expected as much.
He could guess what was inside. It really seemed waste of energy to
open it.
But he must go through with his melancholy functions, and he therefore
took a seat in the hall and composed his face for the worst.
"Thankful to say good night; fever abated, all hopeful.
"Rosalind."
Captain Oliphant turned pale, crushed the pink paper viciously in his
hands, and uttered an exclamation which called forth the sympathy of the
hotel servants who loitered in the hall.
"Poor gentleman," said the lady manager to her clerk, "he's got some bad
news in that telegram."
He had indeed.