A DUBIOUS REFUGE.
The night was clammy and cold. The fog was growing thicker, blacker. And
the water of the Thames, as Max plunged his hand into it, struggling to
raise the body of his friend, was ice-cold to the touch.
Carrie had seized her oar again, and was bringing the boat's head
rapidly round, right under the stern of a barge which was moored close
to Plumtree Wharf.
"Hold him; don't let him go!" cried she imperiously. "But don't try to
drag him into the boat until I get her alongside. You can't do it
without help. And if you could you'd pull the boat over."
The caution was necessary. Max had lost his head, and was making frantic
efforts to raise the body of his friend over the boat's side.
"But he may be alive still! And if there's a chance--oh, if there's the
least chance--"
"There'll be none if you don't do as I tell you!" cried Carrie, tartly.
By this time a lad on board the barge was looking over the side at them,
not seeing much, however, in the gloom. Carrie whistled twice.
"Hello!" replied he, evidently recognizing a signal he was used to.
"Is that Bob?"
"Yes."
"Lower a rope, and hold on like a man, Bob. We've got a man here drowned
or half-drowned; and we want to get him on the wharf in a twinkling."
"Right you are."
The next moment the lad had lowered a rope over the side of the barge,
and Carrie directed Max to pass it round the body of his friend. Then,
she giving the orders as before, Bob from the barge above and Max from
the boat below raised the body out of the water. Carrie had brought the
little boat close to the barge, and held it in place with the boat-hook
until the difficult task was safely accomplished, and the body of Dudley
Horne laid upon the deck of the barge.
"Now," said she to Max, "get up and help Bob to carry him ashore."
Max, who was speechless with grief and as helpless as a child in these
new and strange circumstances, obeyed her docilely, and climbed to the
deck of the barge.
"Now, Bob," went on Carrie, as she seized the second oar and prepared to
row away, "carry him into the kitchen--you know your way--as fast as you
can. And lay him down before the fire, if there is a fire; if not, make
one. Sharp's the word, mind!"
"All right, missus."
Max looked down. Already she had disappeared in the gloom, and only the
muffled sound of the oars as they dripped on the water told him that she
had not yet gone far away.
Suddenly he felt a rough pull at his arm.
"Come on, mister!" cried Bob, briskly. "She said, 'Sharp is the word.'
And when she says a thing she means it, you bet your life."
Max pulled himself together and turned quickly, ashamed of his own lack
of vigor in the face of Carrie's intelligence and energy. Bob and he
raised the body of Dudley and carried it across the plank to the wharf,
where Bob, who knew his way about there, led the way to the door which
Max remembered so well.
It was open, and they passed through the outhouse, meeting no one, to
the kitchen, which was also deserted. There they laid Dudley on the
hearth, as Carrie had directed, and Bob proceeded to rake up the fire,
which had died down to a few embers.
Meanwhile Max had taken off some of Dudley's clothes, and began to apply
friction with his hands to the inanimate body. He had scarcely begun,
when Carrie came in with an armful of dry towels and a couple of
pillows.
"He is dead, quite dead!" cried Max, hoarsely.
Carrie never even looked at him. Placing herself at once on her knees
behind Dudley's head, she curtly directed Max to raise the upper part of
his body, and slipped the two pillows, one on the top of the other,
under the shoulders of the unconscious man.
"Now," said she, "go on with your rubbing--rub with all your might; and
you, Bob, bring in a couple of big stone-bottles you'll find in the
wash-house, fill them with hot water from the boiler, wrap them up in
something, and put one to his feet and the other to the side that's away
from the fire."
While she spoke she was working hard in the endeavor to restore
respiration, alternately drawing Dudley's arms up above his head and
laying them against his sides, with firm and steady movements.
For a long time all their efforts seemed to be useless. Max, indeed, had
little or no hope from the first. He still worked on, however,
perseveringly, but with despair in his heart, until he heard a sharp
sound, like a deep sigh, from Carrie's lips.
She had detected a movement, the slightest in the world, but still a
movement, in the senseless body. With straining eyes she now watched,
that her own movements might coincide with the natural ones which Dudley
had begun to make, and that real breathing might gradually take the
place of the artificial.
"Let me do it. Let me help you," cried Max, who saw the strained look of
utter fatigue which Carrie wore in spite of her excitement.
"No, no; I dare not. I must go on!" cried the girl, without lifting her
eyes.
And presently another cry escaped her lips, a cry of joy.
"He is alive!"
"Thank God!"
The tears sprang to the eyes of Max. It was more than he had hoped.
"A doctor! Shall I fetch a doctor?" said he.
Carrie shook her head.
"A doctor could do no more than we've done," said she. "He'll be all
right now--well enough to be got away, at all events. And the wound on
his head isn't much, I think."
"Wound on his head!"
"Yes. It saved his life, most likely. Prevented his getting so much
water into his lungs. Stunned him, you see."
Something like a sigh from the patient stopped her and directed the
attention of them all to him. Bob, who had been standing in the
background, almost as much excited as the others, came a few steps
nearer. There was a moment of intense, eager expectancy, and then Dudley
half opened his eyes.
Max uttered a deep sob and glanced at Carrie. She was deadly pale, and
the tears were standing in her eyes.
"You've saved him!" said Max, hoarsely.
The sound of his voice seemed to rouse Dudley, who looked at him with a
vacant stare, and then let his eyelids drop again.
"So glad, old chap--so glad to--to see you yourself again!" whispered
Max, huskily.
But Dudley was not himself. He looked up again, then tried to smile, and
at last turned his head abruptly and seemed to be listening.
Carrie beckoned to Max and spoke low in his ear.
"You'd better take him away from here as quickly as you can, for half a
dozen reasons."
Max nodded, but looked doubtful.
"He's ill," said he. "How shall I get him away? And where shall I take
him to?"
"Down to your father's house" answered she at once.
Max looked rather startled.
"But--you know--the police!" muttered he, almost inaudibly. "Won't that
be the very first place they'd come to--my home?"
"Never mind that. You must risk it. He's going to be ill, I think, and
he can't be left here. Surely you know that."
She gave a glance round which made Max shiver.
"And how am I to get him all that way to-night? The last train has gone
hours ago."
"Take him by road, then. We'll get a carriage--a conveyance of some sort
or other--at once. I'll send Bob."
She turned to the lad and gave him some directions, in obedience to
which he disappeared. Then she turned fiercely to Max.
"Don't you see," said she, "that if he wakes up and finds himself here,
after what's happened, it'll about settle him?"
The words sent a shudder through Max.
"After what's happened!" repeated he, with stammering tongue. "What was
it? Who did it?"
But, instead of answering, Carrie threw herself down beside Dudley, who
was now rapidly recovering strength, although he hardly seemed to
understand where he was or by whom he was being tended.
"Do you feel all right now?" she asked, cheerfully.
He looked at her with dull eyes.
"Oh, yes," said he. "But I--I don't remember what--"
"Take a drink of this," interrupted Carrie, quickly, as she put to his
lips a flask of brandy which Bob had fetched. "You've got to take a long
drive, and you want something to warm you first."
"A drive! A long drive!"
Dudley repeated the words as if he hardly understood their meaning. But
he was not satisfied, and as he sipped the brandy he looked at her
curiously. His next words, however, were a criticism on the restorative.
"What vile stuff!"
"Never mind. It's better than nothing. Try a little more."
But instead of obeying, he looked her steadily in the face.
"Where did I see you? I remember your face!" said he. "And who was that
I heard talking just now?"
Suddenly, without any warning, he disengaged one hand from the hot
towels in which he was swathed and sat up. A hoarse cry broke from his
lips as full recognition of the place in which he found himself forced
itself upon him. With a wild light of terror in his eyes, he looked
searchingly round him.
"Where is he? Where is he?" cried he, in a thick whisper.
Carrie's face grew dark.
"Here is your friend," she cried cheerily, "here is Mr. Wedmore. He's
going with you; he's not going to leave you; be sure of that."
"Yes, old chap, I'm going with you," said Max, hurrying forward and
trying to shut out the view of the room with his person as he knelt down
by his friend.
Dudley frowned impatiently.
"You, Max!" said he. "What are you doing here?"
But he asked the question without interest, evidently absorbed in
another subject.
"I'm going to take you down to The Beeches," answered Max, promptly.
To his infinite satisfaction, this reply had the effect of distracting
Dudley's thoughts. Into his pallid face there came a tinge of color, as
he looked intently into his friend's eyes, and repeated:
"The Beeches! You don't mean that!"
"I do; the carriage will be here in a minute or two. And in the meantime
we must think upon getting you dressed."
This question of clothing promised to be a difficult one, as Dudley's
own things were saturated with water. Carrie sprang to her feet.
"I'll see about that," said she, briskly, as she disappeared from the
room.
Max, alarmed at being left alone with Dudley, in whose eyes he could see
the dawn of struggling recollection, babbled on about Christmas, his
mother, his sisters, anything he could think of till Carrie came back
again, with her arms full of men's clothes--a motley assortment.
Max looked at them doubtfully. They were all new--suspiciously new.
Carrie laughed, with a little blush.
"Better not ask any questions about them," said she. "Take your choice,
and be quick."
With his lips Max formed the word: "Stolen?" but Carrie declined to
answer. As there was no help for it, Max dressed his friend in such of
the clothes as were a passable fit for him, while Carrie went out to
watch for the expected carriage. When she returned to the kitchen,
Dudley was ready for the journey. He was lying back in a chair, looking
very white and haggard and exhausted, casting about him glances full of
expectancy and terror, and starting at every sound.
But he asked no more questions, and he made no mention of Mrs. Higgs.
Bob had fulfilled his errand well. Outside the wharf they found a
comfortable landau, with two good horses, hired from the nearest
livery-stable.