The Pomp of Yesterday Part 24

The whole happening had been so sudden, that I was unable to view it calmly. That morning he had looked more than usually well, so well that I could not help reflecting how much younger he appeared than on the day when I had first seen him. He had taken a long walk, too, and showed not the slightest sign of fatigue on his return. He had eaten sparingly, and had drunk nothing but water with his lunch, and a cup of tea at four o'clock. Yet at half-past six he had the stamp of death upon his face, he breathed with difficulty, and his features were drawn and haggard.

As I sat by his side, watching him until the doctor came, I remembered that for perhaps an hour before his attack he was very silent, and had moved around as though he were lacking in energy, but I had thought little of it at the time. Now, however, his condition told its own tale. To all appearances, he was dying, and we were all powerless to help him.

Of course dinner, as far as I was concerned, was out of the question, although, as I was afterwards informed, Captain Springfield made an excellent meal.

It was nearly eight o'clock when the doctor arrived, and never surely was a man greeted with more eagerness than I greeted him. For, as I have already said, I had grown to love Edgec.u.mbe with a great love; why it was, I will not pretend to explain, but no man ever loved a brother more than I loved him, and the thought of his death was simply horrible.

Perhaps the suddenness of everything accounted for my intense feeling; anyhow, my intense anguish cannot be explained in any other way.

Dr. Merril did not inspire me with any great hope. He was a middle-aged man of the country pract.i.tioner's type. I judged that he could be quite useful in dealing with ordinary ailments, but he did not strike me as a man who looked beneath the surface of things, and who could deal successfully with a case like Edgec.u.mbe's. Evidently no particulars of the case had been given to him, and from the confident way I heard him talking to Sir Thomas, who brought him up to the room, he might have been called in to deal with a child who had a slight attack of measles.

When he saw Edgec.u.mbe, however, a change pa.s.sed over his face. The sight of my friend, gasping for breath, with what looked like death-dews on his agonized face, made him think that he had to deal with a man in his death agony.

A few minutes later I altered my opinion of Dr. Merril. He was not so commonplace, or so un.o.bservant as I had imagined. He examined Edgec.u.mbe carefully, and, as I thought, asked sensible questions, which Sir Thomas and Lady Bolivick, both of whom had come into the room, answered readily. Although he did not speak to me, he doubtless noticed how interested I was in his patient, and more than once I saw that he looked at me questioningly.

'I admit I am baffled,' he said at length.

I took this as a good sign as far as he was concerned; anyhow, he was not a man who professed to be wise, while he was in actual ignorance.

'I gather from what you say,' he went on, speaking to Sir Thomas, 'that Captain Lus...o...b.. knows most about him.'

'That is so, Merril,' replied Sir Thomas. 'I have explained to you the circ.u.mstances under which he came here.'

'That being so,' and the doctor spoke very gravely, 'I think it would be best for you all to leave me, except Captain Lus...o...b...'

'There is something here beneath the surface,' said Dr. Merril when we were alone, 'something which I cannot grasp. Can you help me?

Evidently you have been thinking a great deal.'

'I have,' I replied.

'As far as I can judge, he has sufficient vitality to keep him alive for a few hours. I should judge him to be a man of remarkable const.i.tution and great physical strength.'

'You are quite right there. His power of endurance is extraordinary.'

'What I can't understand,' said the doctor, 'is that there is no apparent cause for this, and yet there is some force of which I am ignorant undermining the very citadel of his life. I have never met such a case before, and unless help comes, he will die in less than twelve hours. I am speaking to you quite frankly, Captain Lus...o...b..; from what I know of you, you are quite aware of the limitations of a medical man's power, and my experience during the time I have lived in this district has not been of a nature to help me in such a case as this. Will you tell me what you know of your friend?'

As briefly as I could, I gave an outline of what I have written in these pages, while the doctor, without asking a single question, listened intently.

'You say he does not drink?' he asked, when I had finished. 'He gives not the slightest evidence of it, but it is necessary for me to know.'

'Intoxicants have not pa.s.sed his lips for more than a year,' I replied.

'And his food?'

I detailed to him the food which Edgec.u.mbe had eaten since he came to the house, and which he had partaken of in common with the rest of the members of the household.

'And you have been with him all the day?'

'All the day.'

'And you say you thought he became somewhat lethargic about five o'clock?'

'That is so. Not enough to take particular note of at the time, but in the light of what has happened since, I recall it to mind.'

'Now think,' he said presently, 'has he not, say since lunch, shown any symptom of light-headedness or anything of that sort?'

'Thank you for asking that, doctor,' I replied. 'You have reminded me of something which I had forgotten. It may mean nothing, but at a time like this one reflects upon the minutiae of life. We were walking through a field this afternoon, which was dotted with rough granite rocks. I fancy he must have hitched his foot in one of them; at any rate, he would have fallen heavily but for Captain Springfield, who just in the nick of time helped him up. But he showed no signs of light-headedness, not the slightest. We were all acting like a lot of children, and romped as though we were boys home from school. The happening seemed perfectly natural to me at the time, and but for your question I should not have mentioned it.'

'I am going to speak to you in an entirely unprofessional way, Captain Lus...o...b..,' said the doctor. 'I am not sure, and therefore I speak with hesitation. But it looks to me as though your friend had been poisoned. I don't know how it could have happened, because, as far as I can judge, you account for almost every minute of his time since this morning. But all his symptoms point in that direction.'

'May they not be the result of some slow-working malady which has been in his system for years?' I asked.

Dr. Merril shook his head. 'Hardly,' he replied; 'if the malady were slow-working, it would not have expressed itself so suddenly. In the case of a slow-working poison, too, his suffering would have been of a long drawn-out nature. This is altogether different. A few hours ago he was, according to your account, active, buoyant, strong. He was playing games with you in the fields, as though he were a boy.

Now,'--and the doctor looked significantly at the bed.

'Can you suggest nothing?' I asked again.

The doctor shook his head. 'It is just as well to be frank,' he replied. 'The thing is a mystery to me. His symptoms baffle me. He has drunk nothing but what you have told me of, he has eaten nothing except what has been consumed by the whole household. I don't know what to say.'

'And yet he'll die if nothing's done for him.'

'If symptoms mean anything, they mean that,' he replied. 'Something deadly is eating away at his vitals, and sapping the very foundations of his life. You see, he can tell us nothing; he is unconscious.'

'Is there no doctor for whom we could send, with whom you could confer?'

Again Dr. Merril shook his head. 'We are away from everything here,'

he replied; 'it is fifty miles to Plymouth over rough, hilly roads, and----'

'I have it!' I cried, for the word Plymouth set my mind working. I had spent some time there, and knew the town well.

'Yes, what is it?' asked the doctor eagerly.

'Do you happen to know Colonel McClure? He is chief of the St.

George's Military Hospital in Plymouth.'

'An Army doctor,' said Merril; 'no, I don't know him. I have heard of him. But how can he help? He has been most of his life in India. I imagine, too, that while he may be very good for amputations and wounds, he would have no experience in such cases as this. Of course I shall be glad to meet him, if you can get him here; but that seems impossible. No trains to Plymouth to-night, and to-morrow is Sunday.'

'May I ring for Sir Thomas?' I asked.

'By all means.' And a minute later not only Sir Thomas, but Lady Bolivick, again entered the room. Evidently the old gentleman was much moved. The thought of having a dying man in his house was like a nightmare to him.

'There's no getting to Plymouth to-night!' he cried.

'Haven't you got a motor-car here?'

'Yes, but no chauffeur. My car hasn't been used for weeks, as my man has been called up. That is why I am obliged to use horses for everything. You see, my coachman can't drive a car.'

'Didn't Springfield and Buller come in a car?' I asked.