"Yes, fine old man," said the doctor, as he and Glyddyr walked down the
well-paved path together. "Good for any number of years."
"In spite of the fits?"
"Oh, yes, my dear sir, in spite of the fits. They will not hurt him.
Come on after any fresh excitement, and prostrate him a bit afterward,
but there's nothing much to mind."
"But his sleeplessness? He complains a good deal of that."
"Hum! Well, yes, that is a bad symptom. But he has his cure in his
hands. He will worry himself about money, always striving to make more,
when I'll be bound to say he already has plenty."
"So report says, doctor."
"Oh, yes, and I daresay it's true enough but that's nothing to us. If
he will only leave off worrying about the increase, he'll be able to
sleep well enough. But you said you would like a word with me."
"Yes. Nothing much the matter, but I think I do want setting up a
little."
"Come into my consulting-room, and we'll see," said Asher, leading the
way through a dainty-looking hall, full of the tasteful collections of a
man who had evidently an eye for beauty, and had turned his home into
quite a little museum.
"Why, doctor," cried Glyddyr, in astonishment, "I didn't know you had
this sort of taste?"
"Indeed? Oh, yes. Regular lover of bric-a-brac, as far as my income
will allow. This way."
The next minute he had his new patient seated in a consulting-room that
was the very opposite of the mausoleum-like abode of gloom into which a
London physician has his patients shown.
"Take that seat, my dear sir. Don't be alarmed; it is not an operating
chair. A man who has to exist in this out-of-the-way part of the world
need have some tastes. Hum, ha! pulse, tongue, heart, lungs. Look
here, my dear Mr Glyddyr, I am very glad you have called upon me, or
rather called in my services."
"What?" said Glyddyr anxiously. "You find something wrong?"
"Nothing at all, my dear sir. Just the sort of patient I like. Sound
as a roach; wants a dose now and then, and can afford to pay me my
fees."
"Come, you are frank," said Glyddyr.
"Most commendable quality in a doctor, sir. You have not been living
quite so regularly lately as you should. You have some anxiety on your
mind, and it has upset your digestion. Then, feeling a bit low, I
should say you had been drinking some bad champagne instead of an honest
drop of good Scotch whisky. That's all."
"I say, doctor, are you a necromancer or a magician?"
"Bit of both, my dear sir. Here, I'll begin and give you a dose at
once."
"No, hang it all, doctor, not quite so soon," said Glyddyr, glancing at
the shelves with their large array of bottles.
"Stitch in time saves nine, sir," said the doctor, taking out his keys,
opening a closet of quaint old carved oak, and bringing forth tumblers,
a seltzogene, and a large, curiously-cut decanter. "There, take one
third of that to two-thirds of the carbonic water, and one of these," he
continued, handing a cigar box.
"Oh, come!" said Glyddyr, laughing. "Doctor Asher, if you'll come to
town I'll guarantee you a fortune."
"Thank you," said the doctor, helping himself mechanically to that which
he had prescribed; and as soon as he had lit his cigar, throwing himself
back in another chair. "But no, my lot seems cast here, and I don't
think I shall change. Drop of good whisky, that?"
"Delicious; but is this all the medicine I'm to have?"
"No, I'll send you a box of pills. Take a couple now and then, and
leave the champagne alone."
"I beg pardon, sir, you are wanted at the hotel," said the servant,
after a tap at the door, from behind which she spoke without attempting
to enter.
"Yes: directly."
Glyddyr took a good sip of his whisky and water, and was in the act of
rising when the doctor promptly clapped his hands on his shoulders, and
pressed him back.
"No, no, my dear sir, sit still. I don't suppose I shall be many
minutes. I have a patient there who thinks he is very bad. I want to
finish my cigar with you."
He hurried out, leaving Glyddyr leaning back smoking; but, as soon as he
was alone, he sat up and his eyes began to search the three rows of
bottles before him, and to read the Latin inscriptions upon the drawers
beneath, one of which was pulled half out.
He sat forward listening intently to the retreating step of the doctor,
after which all was still as death, save the regular beat of a timepiece
on the mantelpiece.
Then he threw himself back frowning, and took out his handkerchief to
wipe the perspiration from his forehead, though the room was perfectly
cool, and the window open.
"It's madness," he muttered; "impossible!"
He stretched out his hand, seized his glass, and gulped its contents
down quickly, then, taking the decanter, poured out some more and drank
that.
"Dutch courage," he muttered, setting down the glass. "No spirit. But
it's impossible," he said again, and he laid down his cigar, listening
intently.
And yet it seemed so easy, for there before him, in the upper row, with
its black letters on a gold ground, was the bottle that would do the
work.
"No, no," he said, in a husky whisper; but he rose all the same, and
stood listening in the midst of a silence that seemed death-like.
"I should hear his step a minute before he could get here," he thought;
and with the mocking face of Gellow before him, and his threat, he
strode across the room, looked sharply about him, and saw that in the
half-opened drawer there were a number of clean phials, each with a cork
fitted loosely in.
Taking one of these quickly, he drew the cork with his teeth. Then,
raising his hand, he was in the act of taking down the bottle upon which
he had fixed his eye, when--
_Paugh_!
A hoarse, braying, trumpet-like sound of stentorian power, and he
started away as if he had received a blow.
"Only a confounded steam tug," he muttered, with his face glistening
with perspiration; and taking down the bottle he removed the stopper,
half filled the phial, replaced the stopper and bottle, safely corked
the phial, and, trembling violently now, placed the stolen liquid in his
breast, just as he heard a step outside.
Quick as his trembling hands would allow him to act, he struck a light,
re-lit his cigar, and sank back in his chair with a sigh of relief as
the steps came nearer and nearer; still he suffered an agony of
apprehension lest the doctor on his entrance should notice his
agitation.
"So easy to plan and act," thought Glyddyr, as he listened, "but so hard
to retain one's nerve."
Another five minutes would have enabled him to recover himself, but the
steps were already at the door; and as he drew in a long breath and lay
back, closing his eyes, his cigar between his fingers hanging over the
arm of his chair, and his head on one side in a very bad imitation of
one asleep, the steps passed on.
A false alarm.
Glyddyr breathed more freely. He had time to glance round and see that
he had done nothing to betray himself; the bottle was replaced, he had
spilled nothing, and the phial was safe in his pocket.
He sank back again with a sigh, the cold perspiration ceased to ooze
from his temples, and his pulse throbbed with less violence, as he
smoked slowly, beginning now to look ahead as he felt the little phial.
He had his plan about ready as the step for which he listened was now
heard approaching, and directly after the doctor entered the room.
"Five hundred apologies, Mr Glyddyr. You see what a slave a doctor
is--everybody's slave. No matter where he is or how he feels, if
somebody has an ache or a pain, the doctor must go--yes, even," he added
bitterly, "if it is to face death in the form of some deadly fever; and
generally, in addition to his pay, he hears that he is not clever
because he could not perform impossibilities."
"Not an enviable life, doctor."
"Disgusting, sir, at times. Bah! what am I talking about? Don't smoke
that cigar; take another. No? Going?"
"Yes; I'll get on board the yacht," said Glyddyr. "I feel all the
better for your prescription."
"That's right. Well, I shall see you again this evening."
"And I am not to touch any of the old man's champagne, eh?"
"We-ell," said the doctor, with a quaint, smile, "Gartram's wine is sure
to be good, and a glass or two will not do you much harm. An
exceptional case, my dear sir. A glass or two will brighten you, and
put you in good key for conversation with the ladies."
He smiled, and shook hands warmly with his new patient.
"Don't throw me over by-and-by, Mr Glyddyr," he said. "I have been the
family doctor for some time now. There, forgive me. Very indiscreet
remark of mine."
"Nothing to forgive, my dear sir. Till this evening, then."
"Till this evening," said the doctor; and Glyddyr went down towards the
harbour, with the doctor standing at the window watching him.
"Lucky fellow," he said; "the old man favours it, and the girl--well,
girls have to give way."
Volume Two, Chapter VIII.