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_ CHAPTER IX
When Clemency and James returned from their drive, they saw a glimmer of
light between the house and stable. "Aaron is out there with a lantern,"
whispered Clemency. She sat up straight, leaned into her corner of the
buggy, and adjusted her hat and straightened her hair with the pretty
young girl motions of secrecy and modesty.
James peered ahead into the darkness through which the lantern moved
like a will-o'-the-wisp. "Your uncle is here, too," he said. Then he
drew rein with a sudden, "Halloo, what is wrong?" Aaron came forward,
leaving the lantern on the ground. It lit weirdly Dr. Gordon, who was
kneeling on the ground beside a dark mass, which looked horribly
suggestive. Then James saw another dark mass to the right, the balky
mare and a buggy.
"Doctor Gordon says you had better hitch to this post here," said Aaron
in a sort of hoarse whisper, "and then come to him. He says he needs
help, and Miss Clemency, he says, must go around the house and in the
front door, and be careful not to let the dog out, but go upstairs, and
if her mother is awake, tell her it ain't anything for her to fret
about, and Doctor Gordon will be in very soon."
"Oh, Aaron, what is the matter?" said Clemency, in a frightened whisper,
as James sprang out of the buggy.
"It ain't nothin'," replied Aaron doggedly. "Jest a man fell coming to
the office. Reckon he had a jag on. Doctor says he may have broke a rib.
He's doctorin' him. You jest run round the house, and in the front door,
Miss Clemency, and don't let out the dog, an' see to your ma."
James assisted Clemency out, and she fled, with a wild glance over her
shoulder at the lantern-lit group in front of the office door. While
Aaron tied the horse to the post James ran to Doctor Gordon. When he
drew nearer the sight became sanguinary in its details, and he could
hear from the office the raging growls and howls of the dog. He also
heard him leap against the door, as if he would break it down. Gordon
had a pail of water and a basin beside him, and he was applying water
vigorously to the throat of the prostrate figure. The water in the
basin gleamed, in the lantern light, blood red. "Just empty this basin
and fill it up from the pail," ordered Gordon in a husky voice, and
again he squeezed the reddened cloth over the throat, which James now
discerned was badly torn. The man lay doubled up upon himself as limp as
a rag.
"No, I don't think so," replied Gordon, as if in answer to an unspoken
question, as James, having complied with his request, drew near with the
basin of fresh water.
"Was it the dog?" asked James in a low voice.
"Yes, the fool came round to the office door, and--" Gordon stopped with
a miserable sigh which was almost a groan, and dipped the cloth in the
basin.
"How did you get him off?" asked James.
"I had the whip, and Aaron came in just then with that damned mare. She
had balked. I don't think it is the jugular. It can't be. Damn it, how
he bleeds! Run into the office, Elliot, and get the absorbent cotton and
the brandy. I've got to stop this somehow. Oh, my God!"
James suddenly recognized the man on the ground, and gave an exclamation
which Gordon did not seem to notice. "For God's sake, don't let that
dog out!" he cried. "Don't risk the office door. Go around the house,
the front way! Be quick!"
James obeyed. He rushed around the house, and opened the front door.
Immediately Clemency was clinging to him in the dim vestibule. "Mother
is asleep. I think Uncle Tom must have given her some medicine to make
her sleep. Oh, what is the matter? Who is that man out there, and what
ails him, and what ails the dog? I started to go in the office, but he
leapt against the door, so I didn't. I was afraid he might get out and
run upstairs and wake mother. Oh, what is it all about?"
"Nothing for you to worry about, dear," replied James. "Now you must be
a good little girl, and let me go. Your uncle is in a hurry for some
things in the office." He put away her clinging arms gently, and hurried
on toward the office, but the girl followed him. "If I don't stand ready
to shut the door behind you, that dog will be out," she said. All at
once a conviction as to something seized her, and she cried out in
terror and horror, "Oh, I know it is that man out there, and Jack wants
to get at him. I know."
"It is nothing for you to worry about, dear."
"I know. Is he going to die? Is he hurt much?"
"No, your uncle doesn't think so. Don't hinder me, dear."
"No, I won't. I will stand ready and bang the door together after you
before Jack can get out. Oh, it is that man!" Clemency was
half-hysterical, but she stood her ground. When James opened the office
door cautiously and slipped through the opening, she pushed it together
with surprising strength. "Don't get bitten yourself," she called out
anxiously.
For a moment James thought that he might be bitten, for the dog was so
frenzied that he was almost past the point of recognizing his friends.
He made a powerful leap upon James, the crest upon his back as rigid as
steel, but James snatched at his collar, threw him, and spoke, and the
well-trained animal succumbed before his voice. "Charge!" thundered the
young man, and the dog obeyed, although still bristling and growling.
James hurriedly caught up his leash and fastened him to the staple, then
he opened the inner office door, and spoke quickly and reassuringly to
Clemency, who was huddled behind it shaking with fear. "He is all
right. I have fastened him," he said. "Don't worry. Now I must go and
help your uncle."
"He didn't bite you?"
"Oh, no, he knew me the minute I spoke. Sit down here by the fire and
don't be frightened; that's a good little girl."
With that James was out by the other door and in the drive beside
Gordon, who was still assiduously applying water to the red throat of
the prostrate man. "It is beginning to slack up a little," he said
hoarsely. "Here, give me the cotton, and see if you can't get a drop of
brandy between his teeth. They are clinched, but just now he moved a
little. He may be able to swallow. Aaron, put the team into the wagon,
and get a mattress and some blankets from the storeroom. Hurry, he may
come to himself any minute, and he must not stay here any longer than
necessary." Gordon was working fiercely as he spoke, and James took the
cork from the brandy flask, and attempted to force a little between the
man's clinched teeth. Aaron hurried into the stable and lit another
lantern, and went about executing his orders. James, kneeling over the
prostrate man, attempting to minister to him, saw the face fully in the
glare of the lantern. The unconscious face did not look as evil as he
remembered it. He even had a doubt if it were the face of the man who
had that evening stood at his horse's head, and so terrified Clemency.
Then he became convinced that it was the same. There could be no
mistaking the features, which were unusually regular and handsome, but
with a strange peculiarity of lines. It seemed to James that, even while
the man was unconscious, all his features presented slightly upturned
lines as of bitter derision, intersected with downward lines of
melancholy. All these lines were very delicate, but they served to give
expression. He looked like a man who had suffered and made others suffer
for his sufferings, with a cruel enjoyment at the spectacle. It was a
strange face, but not an evil one. However, after James had succeeded in
forcing a few drops of brandy, which were met with convulsive
swallowing, between the man's teeth, he moved again, and his eyes
opened, and immediately the evil shone out of the face like a malignant
flame in a lamp. Knowledge of, and delight in, evil gleamed out of the
sudden brightness of the man's great eyes. Then the evil seemed to leap
to rage, as a spark leaps to flame. He tried to raise himself, and
cursed in a choking voice. He seemed awake most fully to consciousness,
and to know exactly what had happened. The dog in the office sent forth
a perfect volley of barks. The man had been obliged to sink back, but
his right hand fumbled feebly for his pocket.
"It is not there," Gordon said coolly.
"Shoot him, you--or--" croaked the man in his voice of unnatural rage.
"Time enough for that," said Gordon. He spoke coolly, but James saw him
shaking as if with the ague. He was deadly white, and his whole face
looked drawn and withered. Aaron came leading the team harnessed to the
wagon out of the stable. He had brought down the mattress and blankets,
as the doctor had directed, and the three men after the rude bed had
been made in the wagon lifted the man thereon. He seemed to be
conscious, but his muttering was so weak as to be almost inaudible, save
for occasional words.
After he was in the wagon Gordon, turning to James, said: "You had
better go in the house and stay with the women. Aaron will go with me. I
shall take this man to the hotel, to Georgie K.'s."
A perfect volley of mumbled remonstrances came from the prostrate figure
in the wagon. Gordon seemed to understand him. "No, I shall not take you
there," he said, "but to the hotel. You will be better cared for. I know
the proprietor."
He got in beside the man, and seated himself on the floor of the wagon.
Aaron mounted to the driver's seat.
"Tell Clemency and her mother not to worry if they are awake," Gordon
called to James as the horses started.
James said yes and went into the house. He entered through the office
door, and directly Clemency was in his arms, all trembling and
half-weeping. "Oh, what has happened? Has Uncle Tom taken him away?" she
quavered.
"Hush, dear, you will wake your mother. Yes, he has taken him away."
"What was the matter, tell me."
"He was unconscious. He had fallen."
"He came to. I heard him speak. Were any bones broken?"
"No, I think not. You must go to bed; it it very late, dear."
Clemency had put fresh wood on the hearth, and the little place was all
a-waver and a-flicker with firelight. Grotesque shadows danced over the
walls and ceiling, and sprawled uncertainly on the floor. Clemency
looked up in James's face, and her own had a shocked whiteness and
horror, in spite of the tenderness in his. "Tell--" she began.
"What, dear?"
"Was it--that man?"
James hesitated.
"Tell me," Clemency said imperiously.
"Yes, I think it was."
Clemency glanced as if instinctively at the dog, lying asleep in a white
coil on the hearth. "What was the matter with him?" she asked in a
hardly audible voice.
"He had fallen, dear, and was unconscious."
"Nothing--" Clemency glanced again at the dog, and did not complete her
question.
"He had recovered consciousness," James said hastily.
"Then he is not going to die." It was impossible to say what kind of
relief was in the girl's voice, but relief there was.
"I see no reason why he should. I don't think your uncle thought he
would die."
"Where have they taken him?"
"To the hotel. Now, Clemency dear, you must put all this out of your
mind and go to bed."
Clemency obeyed like a child. She kissed James, took a candle, and went
upstairs.
James went into his own room, but he did not undress or go to bed.
Instead, he sat at the window facing the street and stared into the
darkness, watching for Doctor Gordon's return. He sat there for nearly
two hours, then he heard wheels, and saw the dark mass of the team and
wagon lumber into sight. He ran through the house, and was in the drive
with a lantern when the team entered. "Have you been waiting for us,
Elliot?" called Doctor Gordon's tired voice.
"Yes, I thought I would."
"I stayed until I was sure he was comfortable," said Gordon. He
clambered over the wheel of the wagon like an old man. When he was in
the office with James, and the lamp was lit, he sank into a chair, and
looked at the younger man with an expression almost of despair.
"He is not going to die of it?" asked James hesitatingly.
"No," cried Gordon, "he shall not!" He looked up with sudden, fierce
resolution and alertness. "Why should he die?" he demanded. "He is far
from being old or feeble. His vitals are not touched. Why on earth
should you think he would die?"
"I see no reason," James replied hastily, "only--"
"Only what, for God's sake?"
"I thought you looked discouraged."
"Well, I am, and tired of the world, but this man is going to live. See
here, boy, suppose you see if there is any hot water in the kitchen, and
we'll have something to drink, then we will go to bed, and God grant we
don't have a night call."
After Gordon had drank his face lightened somewhat, still he looked
years older than he had done at dinner time, with that awful aging of
the soul, which sometimes comes in an instant. When finally he went
upstairs James noticed how feebly he moved. It was on his tongue's end
to offer to assist him, but he did not dare.
The next morning, before James was up, he heard the rapid trot of a
horse on the drive, and wondered if Doctor Gordon had had a call so
early. When the breakfast-bell rang only Clemency was at the table. The
maid had returned in season to get breakfast, and was waiting with a
severely interrogative face.
She had noticed blood on the frozen surface of the drive and had stood
surveying it before she entered. She had asked Clemency if anything had
happened, and the girl had told her that a man had fallen near the
office door on the preceding evening and been injured, and Doctor Gordon
had taken him home.
"What's the man's name?" Emma had inquired sharply.
"I don't know," said Clemency, and indeed she did not know, but there
was something secretive in her manner. Emma set her mouth hard and
tossed her head. Curiosity was almost a lust with her. She was always
enraged when it was excited and not gratified.
When James entered, she glanced severely at him and then at Clemency, as
she passed the muffins. She suspected something between them, and she
was baffled there.
"Has Doctor Gordon gone out?" James asked.
"Yes, he went right out as soon as he got up. Just had a cup of coffee;
wouldn't wait for breakfast," replied Emma in a nipping tone.
Neither Clemency nor James made any comment. Both knew where he had
gone, and Emma, seeing that they both knew, grew more hostile than
ever. Her manner of serving the beefsteak was fairly warlike.
After breakfast Aaron told James of some parting instructions which
Gordon had left with him. He had the team harnessed, and was to take
James to visit certain patients.
James went off on a long drive across the country, calling on his way at
the scattered houses of the patients. He did not return until noon, just
before the luncheon-bell rang. Entering by the office door he found
Gordon sitting before the hearth-fire, smoking, and staring gloomily at
the leaping flames. He looked up when James entered, said good morning
in an abstracted fashion, and asked some questions about the patients
whom he had visited. James hesitated about inquiring for the man who had
been injured the night before, but finally he did so. The dog had sprung
up to greet him, and between his pats on the white head and commands of
"Down, sir, down!" he asked as casually as he could if Gordon had seen
his patient who had fallen in the drive the night before, and how he
was. Gordon turned upon James a face of such fierce misery that the
younger man fairly recoiled. "He isn't going to die?" he cried.
"No, he is not going to die. He shall not die!" Gordon replied with
passionate emphasis. Then he added, in response to James's wondering,
half-frightened look, "I have been there all the morning. I have just
come home. I have left everything for him. I don't dare get a nurse. I
am afraid. He may talk a good deal. Georgie K. is with him now. I can
trust him, but I can't trust a nurse. I am going back after luncheon,
and you may go with me. I would like you to see him."
"Does he seem to be very ill?" James asked timidly.
"Not from the--the--wound," replied Gordon, "but I am afraid of
something else."
"What?"
"Erysipelas. I am afraid of that setting in. In fact, I am not
altogether sure that it has not. He is an erysipelas subject. He has
told me of two severe attacks which he has had. When he fell he got an
abrasion of the cheek. That looks worse than the--the--wound. I should
like you to see him. You have seen erysipelas cases, of course, in your
hospital practice."
"Oh, yes."
"There is the bell for luncheon. We will go directly afterward."
James wondered within himself at the feverish haste with which Gordon
swallowed his luncheon, frequently looking at his watch. He was actually
showing more anxiety over this man who had hounded him, of whom he had
lived in dread, than James had seen him show over any patient since he
had been with him. It seemed to him inconsistent. Mrs. Ewing did not
come down to luncheon; Clemency said that she was not feeling as well as
usual but Gordon did not seem much disturbed even by that. He gave
Clemency some powders, with instructions how to administer them to the
sick woman before he left, but he did not show concern, and did not go
upstairs to see her. Clemency herself looked pale and anxious.
She found a chance to whisper to James before he went. "Is that man very
much hurt?" she said close to his ear.
"Hush, dear. I am afraid so."
"Uncle Tom seems terribly worried. I have never seen him so worried even
over mother, and he doesn't seem worried about her now. Oh, James, she
is suffering frightfully, I know." Clemency gave a little sob. Then
Gordon's voice was heard calling imperiously, "Elliot, come along!"
James kissed the poor little face tenderly, and whispered that she must
not worry, that probably the powders would relieve her mother, and then
that she herself had better lie down and try to get a little sleep, and
hurried out.
Gordon was seated in the buggy, waiting for him. "I don't want to lose
any time," he said brusquely as James got in beside him. "Even a few
minutes sometimes work awful changes in a case like this. If he is no
worse I will leave you with him, and make a call on Mrs. Wells. I
haven't seen her to-day, and yesterday it looked like pneumonia, then
there is that child with diphtheria at the Atwaters'. I ought to go
there myself, but if he is worse you will have to go, and to a few
others, and I must stay with him."
Gordon drove furiously. Heads appeared at windows; people on the street
turned faces of wonder and alarm after him. It was soon noised about
Alton that there had been a terrible accident, that somebody was at the
point of death, but of that Gordon and James knew nothing.
When they arrived at the hotel, Gordon, after he had tied his horse,
took his medicine-case, and, followed by James, entered, and went
directly upstairs to a large room at the back of the hotel. This room
was somewhat isolated in position, having a corridor on one side and
linen closets on another, it being a corner apartment with two outer
walls. Gordon opened the door softly and entered with James behind him.
The bed stood between the two west windows. It was a northwest room. The
afternoon sun had not yet reached it. It was furnished after the usual
fashion of country hotel bedrooms. It was clean and sparse, and the
furniture had the air of having a past, of having witnessed almost
everything which occurs to humanity. It seemed battered and stained,
though not with wear, but with humanity. The old-fashioned black walnut
bedstead in which the sick man lay seemed to have a thousand voices of
experiences. A great piece was broken off one corner of the footboard.
The wound in the wood looked sinister. Directly opposite the bed stood
the black walnut bureau, with its swung glass. The glass was cracked
diagonally, and reflected the bed and its occupant with an air of
experience. Gordon went directly to his patient. Beside him sat Georgie
K. He looked at the two doctors and shook his head gravely. His great
blond face was unshaven and paled with watching. Nobody spoke a word.
All three looked at the man in the bed, who lay either asleep, or
feigning sleep, or in a stupor. Gordon felt for his pulse softly, with
keen eyes upon his face. This face was unspeakably ghastly. The throat
was swathed in bandages. There was one tiny spot of red on the white of
the linen. The man's eyes were rolled upward. Around an abrasion on the
cheek, which glistened oily with some unguent which had been applied to
it, was a circle of painful red clearly defined from the pallor of the
rest of the cheek.
Gordon spoke. "How do you feel?" he asked of the man, who evidently
heard and understood, but did not reply. He simply made a little motion
of facial muscles, of shoulders, of his whole body under the
bed-clothes, which indicated rage and impatience.
"Does that place on your cheek burn?" asked Gordon.
Again there was no answer, this time not even any motion.
"Have you any pain?" asked Gordon. The man lay motionless. "Is there any
one in the parlor?" Gordon asked abruptly of Georgie K.
"No, Doc. You can go right in there."
Gordon beckoned to James, and the two went downstairs, and entered the
room of the wax flowers and the stuffed canary.
"It looks like erysipelas," Gordon said with no preface.
James nodded.
"All I have done so far, in the absence of any positive proof of the
truth of that diagnosis, is to apply what you will think an old woman's
remedy, but I have known it to give good results in light cases, and I
did not like to resort to the more strenuous methods until I was sure of
my ground, for fear of complications. I applied a little mutton tallow,
and that was all, but the inflammation has increased since I saw him. It
now looks to me like a clearly defined case of erysipelas."
"It does to me," said James.
"So far--the--wound in the throat seems to be doing well," said Gordon
gloomily. Then he looked at the younger physician with an odd, helpless
expression. "His life must be saved," said he. "Which do you prefer of
the two methods of treating the disease--that is, of the two primary
ones? Of course, there are methods innumerable. I may have grown rusty
in my country practice. Do you prefer the leaches, the nitrate of
silver, the low diet, or the reverse?"
"I think I prefer the reverse."
"Well, you may be right," said Gordon, "and yet you have to consider
that this is a man in full vigor," he added, "that presumably he has
considerable reserve strength upon which to draw. Still if you prefer
the other treatment--"
"I have seen very good results from it," said James. He was becoming
more and more astonished at the older man's helpless, almost appealing,
manner toward himself. "What is the man's name?" he asked.
"I don't know what name he has given here," Gordon replied evasively. "I
will tell you later on what his name is."
Suddenly the parlor door was flung open, and a woman appeared. She was
middle-aged, very large, clad in black raiment, which had an effect of
sliding and slipping from her when she moved. She kept clutching at the
buttons of her coat, which did not quite meet over her full front. She
brought together the ends of a black fur boa, she reached constantly for
the back of her skirts, and gave them a firm tug which relaxed the next
moment. Her decent black bonnet was askew, her large face was flushed.
She had been a strapping, handsome country girl once; now she was almost
indecent in her involuntary exuberance of coarse femininity.
"How do you do, Mrs. Slocum?" Doctor Gordon said politely.
James rose, Gordon introduced him. Mrs. Slocum did not bow, she jerked
her great chin upward, then she spoke with really alarming ferocity.
"Where has my boarder went? That's what I want to know. That's what I
have come here for, not for no bowin's and scrapin's. Where has my
boarder went?"
A keen look came into Gordon's face. "I don't know who your boarder is,
Mrs. Slocum," he said. _
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