"Quick! Pray! Oh, Bruno, Bruno!" shrieked Gertrude, as she dashed
forward to seize the dog--a vain attempt, for stronger hands had already
failed to hold the furious beast, who had pricked up his ears at Mrs
Denton's mention of the name, and then, as Saul entered the room, given
vent to a deep-toned roar, and, as if once more in possession of his
full strength, leaped at his old enemy's throat.
The attempt made by George Harrington to hold him was vain, but his
second attempt was more successful, though it was made after receiving a
heavy blow from the chair with which Saul struck at the dog, falling in
the effort, to lie prone with Bruno's teeth fixed in the
tightly-buttoned collar of his coat.
"Let go, dog! Let go!" roared George, seizing Bruno's collar with both
hands, and by the exercise of his great strength wrenching him away with
the collar of the coat in his teeth.
Then ensued a tremendous struggle, the dog making furious plunges to get
at the prostrate figure, growling and barking the while, with the
accompanying worrying sound made by a dog half mad with rage.
"It's no good, my lad," cried George excitedly. "I've got you. Hold
still!"
For response the dog threw his head from side to side, making frantic
plunges, and ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have let him go,
but, after a desperate fight, Bruno was thrown and held securely, his
opponent pressing him to the carpet by the help of his bended knee.
"He's done," panted the young man. "Do you give in, sir?"
The dog uttered a low whine, that sounded like a remonstrance, and lay
quite still.
"Get that gentleman out of the room quickly. Or no. Here, Gertrude,
show me where I can lock up the dog. A room, outhouse--anywhere."
"Better shoot him. The dog's mad," cried Mr Hampton excitedly.
"Oh!" ejaculated Gertrude.
"The dog's not mad," panted George. "You lead the way."
"Yes, yes," cried Gertrude.
"I think I can hold him. Stand on one side, and be ready to shut the
window to as soon as I get him outside."
"I'm ready," said Gertrude, with a calm display of courage which brought
forth an admiring glance.
"Then stand clear."
Removing his knee, George Harrington dragged the dog quickly along the
carpet, and out on to the lawn. The window was closed, and Gertrude ran
to his side.
"This way," she cried; and running to the side of the house she drew
open a door in the wall, through which, after another fierce struggle,
the dog was dragged, the door banged to, and then Gertrude ran across
the yard and opened the stable door.
"Pray, pray, mind he doesn't bite you," she cried in agony.
"No fear; I've got him too tightly; besides he hasn't tried. By Jove!
he has got his strength again, and no mistake. There, sir, you're
mastered."
As he spoke, he gave his captive a swing forward, dashed back, and
closed the door, just as the dog bounded at it, and tore at the panel,
baying furiously.
"Well, I'm in a nice state. But that Saul Harrington! He and the dog
must be bad friends."
"Yes," said Gertrude, with her voice trembling and deep from agitation,
"but you--you are hurt."
"Not in the least," he said, catching the hands extended to him in an
imploring way. "No, not hurt. So full of happiness to hear you speak
like that."
"Mr Harrington!" she faltered.
"Yes, George Harrington, indeed, indeed," he cried, with his voice
sounding deep and emotional.
"Let us make haste back," she cried, hurriedly opened the door in the
wall, trembling, troubled, pleased--she could not define her sensations;
and it was with a sense of relief that she found Mrs Hampton coming
toward them.
"Is that dreadful dog locked up safely?" she cried.
"Yes, quite safe; but I had a terrible fight with his lordship," said
George Harrington, coming to his companion's help. "No fear of his
getting well now."
"He must have gone mad."
"No; only towards Mr Saul Harrington, I'm afraid."
They hurried back to the drawing-room, to become conscious of a hoarse,
panting sound, and a low angry muttering from the couch, where the two
old men were feebly struggling with Saul Harrington.
"Quick! Help here!" said the old lawyer.
George Harrington sprang to them, and pinned Saul down to the couch,
from which he vainly struggled to rise.
"You had better go, ladies," cried the young man.
"Can I be of any use?" said Gertrude calmly. "Doctor Lawrence knows how
I can help."
"Yes, help me," said the old man. "Can you hold him?"
"Oh, yes; I have him fast for the present."
Doctor Lawrence hurried to a table, took out his pocket-book, and wrote
a prescription, tore out the pencilled leaf, and gave it to Gertrude.
"Send and get that made up for me," he said hastily.
Gertrude flew from the room, and the doctor hastened to help keep the
patient within bounds.
"It was utter madness to leave his bed," he said.
"Perhaps he came in search of you."
"Impossible. He could not have known I was coming down here. Great
heavens! what a state he is in."
For at that moment, as the sick man struggled in his delirium, he heaved
himself till his body formed an arch, and it was all that the three men
could do to keep him upon the couch.
"Like anyone suffering from a powerful dose of strychnia," muttered the
doctor.
"What are you going to do, Lawrence?" whispered the lawyer. "Can't you
give him some narcotic that will last till you get him back to his
chambers?"
"What I have sent for," said the doctor, in a quiet, business-like way.
"Mrs Hampton, we want something to form a long broad band to hold him
down to the couch, without doing any harm."
"Why not one of those long curtains?" said George Harrington, pointing
to an alcove full of books.
"Yes, the very thing," cried the doctor, looking in the indicated
direction.
George Harrington waited until a paroxysm was over, and the patient had
for the moment ceased to struggle, before leaping upon a table and
rapidly unhooking the piece of drapery, which was formed into a broad
band, and tightly secured across the patient's chest before being
fastened below the couch.
"Half an hour to wait before we can get the medicine, I'm afraid," said
the doctor. "I want to get him composed, and then we might put him in a
fly and drive up to his chambers."
"You'll never get him away to-night," said George Harrington bluntly.
"Rather hard on the ladies; but he is a relative, and it seems to me
that you ought to keep him here."
"I'm afraid he is right, Hampton," said the doctor. "Good heavens! what
a paroxysm."
There was a long struggle, during which the delirious man made desperate
efforts to get free.
"Down, beast!" he literally growled; and in his terrible fit he seemed
to be struggling with the dog. "Down, brute! I'll dash your brains
out! Curse him! how strong he is?"
There was a few moments' cessation, and Mrs Hampton, who had been
wringing her hands by the window, and trying hard to master her emotion,
came up to say calmly:
"Can I do anything?"
"Yes. Go and see whom Gertrude has sent," cried the doctor impatiently.
"If that old woman has gone, it will be an hour before she is back."
Mrs Hampton hurried out, and the sound made by the closing door seemed
to startle the sick man into action again.
"Ah, would you?" he growled. "Beast! Devil! What! Bite! Ah!"
He uttered a yell of pain, and clapped his hand upon his injured arm.
"Curse you! take that, and that. Now then! Yes, yelp and snarl.
You'll never bite again. Ah! It's like red-hot irons going into my
flesh; but kill your mad dog, they say, and there's no harm done."
"That miserable dog's attack seems to have quite overset him," whispered
the lawyer. "Good heavens! what a terrible position for us all."
George Harrington said nothing, but stood at the head of the couch,
ready to seize and hold the sufferer the moment the next paroxysm
occurred.
He had not long to wait, for with a howl that did not seem human, Saul
Harrington made such a start that the couch cracked as if it was being
wrenched apart.
"Ah, you here! Watching! But you can't speak--you can't tell tales.
If I'd known, I'd have silenced you. Lie down, brute! Do you hear--lie
down! Hey, Bruno, then; good dog. Lie down, old man," he said,
laughing softly, and talking in a low cajoling tone. "You know me,
Bruno. Good dog, then. Lie down, old fellow. Friends, do you hear--
friends. Good dog, then."
He extended a hand toward the dog he imagined that he saw, smiling
unpleasantly the while, and then once more he started and yelled
horribly.
"Down, you beast! Curse you! Bitten me, have you. I'll have your
life, if I die for it. Beast! Devil! Curse you! Strong, are you?
Yes, and I am strong too. Oh, if I had a knife!"
He panted out these words in a series of hoarse cries; and all he while,
as far as his hands would allow, he went through the movements of one
having a desperate struggle with a great dog--fending off its efforts to
get at his throat. Again clapping his hand to his arm with a moan of
pain, and ending by striking at the animal which had attacked him blow
after blow, to sink back looking hideously ghastly and perfectly
exhausted by his efforts.
"Poor fellow!" said the lawyer, as the sick man lay with his eyes half
closed. "How unlucky for the dog to spring at him. Seems to have
completely shattered his brain."
"Yes," said the doctor gravely, as he held his patient's wrist.
"Terrible work, sir," continued the lawyer, looking at George
Harrington, but the young man made no reply. He was staring
thoughtfully at the wretched man, apparently waiting the moment when he
must lean over the head of the sofa, and hold him down; but all the
while following up a clue which his active imagination painted before
him in vivid colours.
For, as he stood there, the wanderings of the delirious man's brain
evoked a chain of ideas, and he saw farther than his two companions, who
attributed the violence of the paroxysms to the shock caused by the
dog's attack.
"The trouble must be farther back than that," he thought. "The dog had
dashed at him as if for some former cause," and the incoherent panting
words which he heard better than his companions at the feet could, he
read as by the key suggested to his mind. Once started upon this track,
all came very easily.
"There must have been some old encounter when the dog had attacked him.
His words suggested it all, even to the effect of the encounter. He had
been bitten and--then--to be sure, there was that broken
walking-stick!--he had retaliated with a blow of such savage violence
that he believed he had killed the dog; and, of course, it was perfectly
clear--the next time they met, and the poor brute had sufficiently
recovered, it had dashed at him."
Saul Harrington's breath came in a low, stertorous way, as Mrs Hampton
just then re-entered the room, and crept to her husband's side on
tip-toe to whisper:
"Gertrude has gone herself. I'll go back and wait till she returns."
George Harrington felt a pang of disappointment as he asked himself why
he had not gone, but the reason came to remind him, for as Mrs Hampton
stole back to the door, Saul uttered a savage cry, and they had hard
work to keep him down, as he threw his head from side to side, gnashing
his teeth, snapping, and making a hideous, worrying sound, such as might
come from a dog. For some moments no coherent words left his lips--
nothing but these terrible, low, hoarse cries, and the doctor whispered
from where he stood to George Harrington:
"For heaven's sake take care. If he bit you now, the consequences might
be serious."
A shudder ran through the young man; but he forgot his own peril in the
excitement of hearing the words which now came distinctly to strengthen
his theory; as, with convulsed features, and eyes seeming to start as
they watched something which the diseased brain had conjure: up, Saul
panted savagely:
"Yes, you beast! I see you tracking and watching me. But keep off!
I'll kill you as I would a rat. Hah! Take him off--take him off! My
arm! My arm! Don't you see! His teeth have met and he has torn a
piece out. Ah! Down, beast, down! Hah! You had it that time! Curse
you! You'll never do that again. Dead--dead--dead!"
He sank back once more in utter exhaustion, but his lips kept moving
feebly, and a curious jerk from time to time sent a spasmodic action
through his limbs.
"Yes, that must be it," thought George Harrington; "the dog had attacked
him, and fastened upon his arm, and this injury, which he attributed to
a fall on the Alps, was from the bite of the dog, which for some
reason--of course so as not to hurt Gertrude's feelings--he wished to
keep quiet. The reason was simple enough. He had struck and nearly
killed the dog."
His musings were interrupted by a fresh paroxysm, so horrible that those
who held the delirious man shuddered, and George Harrington felt a
strange dread of the doctor's patient, as it seemed to him probable that
this might be all the result of that bite--a form of hydrophobia--that
horrible incurable disease which sets medicine knowledge at defiance,
and laughs all remedies to scorn.
Saul Harrington's cries, curses and writhings once more subsided just as
the great iron gate was heard to clang.
"Go, and fetch the medicine, Hampton," whispered the doctor, "and tell
them it is impossible to take him away. A bed must be made up on the
floor of the study."
"Yes. Quite right."
"And they must not come in here again. It is too horrible. Really it
is not safe."
A fierce cry rang out at that moment, and Saul's strength seemed to be
so superhuman that the broad fold of curtain which helped to keep him
down parted, and, tossing aside the hands which tried to restrain him,
he made for the door, which Gertrude opened.
George Harrington uttered a low cry, which sounded like a quick, sharp
expiration of the breath, and leaped across the room to seize the
wretched maniac as he was in the act of springing upon Gertrude, who
shrank back against the door appalled by the hideous look upon his face.
Then began a terrific struggle, in which, for some time, no aid could be
rendered.
No sound escaped Gertrude's lips, but she stood there white and
trembling, as if fascinated by the horror of the scene, while Mrs
Hampton held her by the arm with the intention of dragging her away, but
only to be so paralysed by terror that she could not stir.
For a good five minutes nothing was heard in the room but the
overturning and breaking of furniture, mingled with the hoarse panting
animal cries of Saul, who seemed to see in George Harrington the dog he
sought to destroy.
In spite of all the others could do, matters went hard with George; but
the dexterity of a man used to wild life stood him in good stead, and
just as in the midst of a savage, snarling sound Gertrude felt the room
swimming round her, and as if insensibility was coming on, there was a
heavy crash, and the shock brought her back to life.
George Harrington was seated upon Saul's chest, as he said in a panting
voice:
"Now, doctor, quick! Give him what you have. I can't hold him long.
About beat out."
The next minute the doctor was on his knees beside the wretched man,
seizing any opportunity to trickle a few drops of the strong sedative
between the gnashing teeth--a dangerous and difficult task--till a
goodly portion had been swallowed as well as scattered over the carpet,
and then Saul lay staring and muttering something about the dog.
"I've exhibited a tremendous dose," whispered Doctor Lawrence, as he
recorked the bottle. "That must calm him for a time."
But quite a quarter of an hour passed before Saul sank into a state of
stupor; and then after he had been replaced upon the couch, it was
wheeled into the study, a more secure bandage placed across his heaving
chest; and the exhausted party sat down to watch.