A Fool There Was Part 19

"Well," said the doctor, again. "For heaven's sake, what's the matter!

Have you become suddenly dumb? You have a tongue, haven't you? If you have, for goodness' sake, use it."

Blake answered, slowly:

"Doctor, it's about Jack Schuyler."

The sudden little look of anxiety that sprang to the good old man's eyes showed how much the statement meant to him.

"About Jack Schuyler!" he exclaimed. "What about Jack Schuyler? No harm-- he's not ill?"

"Very, very ill, I fear," Blake responded. "I don't understand it at all.

I can't comprehend--"

The doctor brought his old fist down upon the scratched top of his old desk.

"Will you stop hemming and hawing and shilly-shallying around and come to the point!" he fairly howled.

"It's about Jack Schuyler," repeated Blake, slowly, "and a woman."

Doctor DeLancey started. He sat erect.

"What!" he cried. "Jack Schuyler and a woman? You're a fool! It's ridiculous--impossible--absurd!"

"That's what I've been telling myself for the past month," rejoined Blake.... "But it's not ridiculous--it's not impossible--it's not absurd.

Would to G.o.d it were!"

"But Jack Schuyler!" protested the doctor, incredulously. "Why, I've known him since he was born. And I knew his father, and his mother, and his grandfather and his grandmother before him! Damme, I don't believe it. I won't believe it!"

"Neither did I," returned Blake. "Neither would I--until--"

He told the doctor of the letter that had come; and of that which it contained. In silence the doctor listened, and to the end.

There was a pause; Blake continued:

"I don't believe I could do anything. I'd lose my head. I want you to go to him, to see if there isn't something that you can do. I'll pay--"

The doctor leaped from his chair, waggling an old finger in Blake's face.

"Pay!" he yelled. "Pay me for going to Jack Schuyler! You keep your dashed money, my boy. When I want any, I'll ask you for it. D'ye hear me?

I'll ask you for it! When does the first boat sail?"

"It sails to-night--in half an hour," returned Blake. "It's the 'Vagrant'.... I'm going, too.... I want to be near at hand.... Good G.o.d!"

he cried, suddenly. It was almost a wail. "To think of Jack Schuyler-- our Jack Schuyler!--like that!"

The doctor came in from the hall whence he had rushed. One arm was in the sleeve of his coat. His hat was over his ear. He was vainly trying to put his left glove on his right hand.

"Well?" he blurted, "what are you standing there for like a b.u.mp on a log? Why don't you get started? What's the matter with you, anyhow? Come on!" He turned, and shouted up the stairs: "Mary! Mary! Ma-a-a-a-ry, I say! I'm going away. Don't know when I'll be back. Ask young Dr.

Houghton, across the street, to take care of my patients until I get home. He'll probably kill a lot of 'em; but I can't help that."

And still shouting, still fussing with glove and sleeve, he b.u.mbled out the door, and down the steps to the waiting car.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

RESCUE.

Blake waited on the yacht, in the harbor of Liverpool. It was hard for him to sit idly by at such a time; but he felt that it was best. There was in his soul a great pity, to be sure--a great grief--a great horror-- yet there was there too a great, deep anger, and a wild resentment; for he loved the daughter of Jimmy Blair, you know; and it was not alone that Jack Schuyler was his friend; it was as well that he was her husband, and the father of her child. So he did not trust himself to go, then; for he knew that all that he might do, Dr. DeLancey could do, and more.

Dr. DeLancey went, then, alone. In London he found John Schuyler. He did not announce himself; he bullied and stormed and finally persuaded those who stood between him and his quarry, to let him go unannounced.

He did not knock. Instead he thrust open the door and entered. Schuyler was standing before the grate with its burden of glowing coals. He looked up. He started, rubbing his eyes as one who sees but doesn't believe that which his gaze tells him to be so.

"It's you!" he cried.

Dr. DeLancey nodded.

"Yes," he said, simply. "Jack, I've come to take you home. The yacht's waiting at Liverpool. Tom's boat, you know. Steam's up. So get your hat."

Schuyler raised his hand, protestingly.

"But," he began, "I--"

The doctor cried, explosively:

"Don't you try to argue with me, young man. I've neglected my practice and let everything go to the devil to come over here, and I don't want any of your dashed _buts_ thrown at me. You get your hat and coat and you come with me. D'ye hear me?"

"I can't go," said Schuyler.

The doctor brought his flat fist down upon the center table.

"Can't go!" he howled. "In about a split second I'll show you whether you can't or not. You get your hat and coat! Or," he went on, "come without 'em. It's all the same to me. Parks can pack up your things, and come on the 'Transitania,' to-morrow. You're coming now. D'ye hear me? You're coming now--this dashed instant!"

He advanced upon Schuyler, gripping him by the arm. Schuyler stood for a brief moment, doggedly. Then suddenly his head dropped forward upon his breast.

"Very well," he acquiesced, slowly. Suddenly his voice broke. He almost whispered:

"I'm glad you've come, doctor.... I was helpless--utterly helpless."

They took the train within the hour. And the following morning found the "Vagrant" at sea, with John Schuyler on board. Yet it was a different John Schuyler from the one they had known. He had refused to shake hands with either Blake, or the doctor. He did not mention the woman; nor did they. They tried to be toward him as they had always been--as though all that had happened alone in imagination.... He did not sleep; he ate but little; and he drank, some.

Blake was heart-sick--soul-sick. To see the man that he had known and loved as that man was! But Dr. DeLancey a.s.sured him:

"It'll take a year or two. But he'll be all right in the end."