"There is a messenger from the mine," the Major whispered.
"Don't talk of it," said the Doctor angrily. "Who is down there now?"
"Mr Jessop Reed and that Mr Wrigley. They are trying everything to
discover a continuation of the lost lode."
"Bah! let them. Well, what do they want? Do they expect me to operate
on the vein and make it bleed again?"
"No, no. There is a man there, one Sturgess, the foreman, grievously
ill, and this Mr Wrigley, knowing that you are here, has sent their
clerk Robson over with a message begging you to see him."
"I? No: impossible. Let him see the local man. I am engaged solely to
watch my old friend's son."
This was said so decisively that the Major walked away, but stopped by
the door and returned.
"I don't like this man, Doctor," he said; "he once insulted my child."
"What? insulted Dinah--the girl my poor boy worshipped!" cried the
Doctor angrily; "then let him die."
He added something respecting Michael Sturgess's future, as he angrily
turned away.
"Think again, Doctor," said the Major. "They say the man is in a
dangerous state. He has been bad for some time. It was from a fall, I
believe, down one of the shafts."
"That mine again. Why, Major Gurdon, it has been a curse to every one
who has had dealings with it. Well, it's of no use to profess to be a
Christian if one does not act up to it. I'll just go in and see how
Clive seems, and whether he can be left."
"And then you will go?"
"Oh yes, I suppose I must. That's the worst of being a Christian. One
cannot hate or curse a man conscientiously. Yes; I'll go and see the
fellow, and I hope I shall not be tempted to give him too strong a
dose."
He went into the next room, bent over Clive for a few minutes, and rose
as if satisfied.
"You will not leave him," he said.
"You think there is fresh danger?"
"No, my child, the danger has always been great enough. They want me to
go and see a man at the mine--one Sturgess."
Dinah started and shuddered. The Doctor noticed it, and thought of her
father's words.
"You would rather I did not go."
"I don't like you leaving me, but if it is urgent--"
"They fear the man is dying."
"As we forgive them that trespass against us," rose to Dinah's brain.
"Yes, Doctor, you must go," she said softly; and he nodded his head.
"Good girl," he said, and he left her.--"Ah, Janet, my child, why were
you not like that? My training, I suppose.--Now, sir, I am ready."
Robson started from his seat in the porch, and led the way toward the
mine, relating all he knew of the case to the Doctor as they went.
"He was alone in the mine one morning, sir, and had a nasty fall. He
injured his shoulder a good deal, and refused to have any medical advice
till it had all gone bad. He said the doctors were fools, and that a
bandage and cold water were all that was necessary."
"And found out that some one was a bigger fool than the doctors, eh?"
said the old man drily.
"Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied the clerk, smiling. "This way,
please."
He led the Doctor down to the little house apportioned to the foreman;
and as they approached it, Jessop and Wrigley came out, the former, who
looked haggard and careworn, seeming disposed to hurry away, but he
mastered his shrinking and stood firm.
"How do?" said the Doctor, with a short nod. "Janet quite well?"
"Yes, Doctor," cried Jessop eagerly, "and--"
"Stand aside, please," said the old man testily. "I want to talk to
this gentleman. Are you Mr Wrigley?"
"I am, and I am very grateful to you for coming, sir. I am very anxious
about our man."
"Where is he?"
"This way, please."
The Doctor followed into a bedroom where the man lay, hollow of cheek
and half delirious, while one of the miners' wives was playing the part
of nurse.
"Mr Jessop Reed, I can dispense with your company, sir. I want to be
alone. You can go too, my good woman, and you, Mr What's your name?
Robson. No, you stay, Mr Wrigley. I may want to ask some questions."
Jessop went out scowling.
"A brute!" muttered the Doctor. "Knows his brother is, perhaps, on his
deathbed, and has never sent to ask how he is."
The next minute he was examining the patient, who lay perfectly still,
while a hideous wound in the shoulder, which was evidently of long
standing, was bared.
"Curious kind of hurt!" said the Doctor. "Here's something within which
irritates it."
"Piece of rock splinter, perhaps," suggested Wrigley.
"Very likely; but he will never get well with that in his flesh.--Don't
groan, man. It's to do you good. Humph, look here. I thought it was a
singular injury."
He held out a piece of green metal with some fine-looking letters upon
it, and Wrigley examined them.
"Eley!" he said. "Why, it is a piece of a brass cartridge."
"That's right. The man has been shot. Hallo! That makes him wince.
Why, he is hurt here, too, in this leg. No doubt about this. The bite
of some animal. Dog, I suppose. Are you sure that our friend here is
not a poacher?"
"I never heard of anything of the kind," replied Wrigley.
"Humph!" ejaculated the Doctor, "just the sort of case I should expect
to meet with where men went out after game, and then lay in hiding after
a fight with the keepers."
"I can do no more now," he said, after a busy pause. "I'll come and see
him to-morrow, and dress the places again. They will not kill him. I
daresay the wound in the shoulder will heal now; the bite, too, for a
time--may break out again, though."
Just then Wrigley's hand went to his pocket, and the Doctor frowned.
"Never mind that, sir," he said. "This was done out of charity. If all
I hear is right, we are fellow-sufferers."
"You lost, then, by the mine," said Wrigley eagerly.
"Yes, sir, heavily, when some confounded scoundrel put about that
report, and made me join in the panic. But the fellow who bought up the
shares has been nicely trapped--and--why, hang it all, are you the Mr
Wrigley?"
"At your service, sir," said the solicitor coldly, but looking rather
white.
"Then, Mr Wrigley, I have the pleasure of telling you that you are a
confounded scoundrel, and I'm glad you've lost by your scheme. Stop!
one word! what about Jessop Reed?"
"He is outside, sir; you can speak to him."
"Not I. The pair of you hatched the swindle, I'll be bound. Take care
of this man, and he is to have no spirits or meat yet, but I'll come in
and see him again."
Wrigley said no more, and the Doctor marched out with his head up, gave
Jessop a short nod, and strode back to continue his watching by Clive
Reed's couch; but, on entering the room, he gave a start, for his
patient's eyes turned to him directly.
Dinah suppressed a cry, and the Doctor made her a sign to be silent,
while he quickly sat down and took his patient's hand, which closed
softly upon his fingers. Then, as the eyes still gazed in his in a
dreamy way, there was a faint smile of recognition. Soon after the lids
dropped softly, like those of a weary infant; and as the Doctor bent
lower, there was a sigh, and the regular rise and fall of his breath.
Dinah stood back with her hands clasped, her pupils widely dilated, and
a beseeching look of agony in her eyes, as the Doctor slowly rose.
Then, seeing the dread and horror painted in her face, he smiled, took
her hand, and led her, trembling with hope and apprehension, out of the
room.
"Dying?" she cried, in a low, piteous, wailing tone.
"Yes: we've killed the fever, and he is sleeping as peacefully as a
child."
"Ah!"
One low, piteous sigh, and Dinah would have fallen to the floor had not
the Doctor caught her in his arms, for she fainted dead away.
The Major, who was, in his dread, always upon the _qui vive_, joined
them on the instant, and helped to bear his child to a couch.
"Overcome?" he whispered.
"With joy. Yes: our poor boy will live."