Witness to the Deed Part 34

"Yes, yes, but say something. What is it--some sudden attack? Come, man, don't look at me in that ghastly way; are you ill?"

"No--no. I don't know," faltered Stratton.

"Then you must have some explanation to make."

"No--no. None. Go!"

"Mark--my dear brother," whispered Miss Jerrold.

"Flesh and blood can't stand it, girl," he panted, with the veins in his temples purple; and s.n.a.t.c.hing himself away, he thrust Guest aside and once more seized Stratton--this time by the arms.

"Now, sir," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "I know I ought to leave you in contempt for your cursed shilly-shallying, pusillanimous conduct, but with my poor child's agonised past before me, I can't behave as a polished gentleman should."

Stratton glared at him in silence, with the pallor increasing, and his face a.s.suming a bluish-grey tinge.

"I came here believing--no, trying to believe--that you had been taken ill; that there was good reason for my child being once more exposed to a cruel public shame that must make her the byword of society. I ask you for an explanation, and in this cursedly cool way you say you have none to offer. You are not ill; you have not, as we feared, been attacked for your money, for there it lies on the table. There is nothing wrong, then, with you, and--good G.o.d! what's this?"

He started away in horror, for the hand he had in his anger shifted to Stratton's shoulder was wet, and, as he held it out, Miss Jerrold uttered a faint cry, for it was red with blood; and, released from the fierce grasp which had held him up, Stratton swayed forward, reeled, and fell with a crash on to the carpet.

"He's hurt. Wounded," cried Guest, dropping on one knee by his friend's side, but only to start up and dash into the adjoining room, to come back directly with basin, sponge, and water.

"d.a.m.n!" raged the admiral, "what a brutal temper I have. Poor lad! poor lad! Fetch a doctor, Guest. No. That's right, sponge his temples, 'Becca. Good girl. Don't fetch a doctor yet, Guest. I am a bit of a quack. Let me see."

He went behind the prostrate man, who lay perfectly insensible, and kept on talking hurriedly as he took out a penknife and used it freely to get at the injury in the shoulder.

"Why didn't he speak? You were right, then, Guest. Some scoundrel has been here. Curse him! we'll have him hung. To be sure--a bullet gone right through here--no; regularly ploughed his flesh. Thank Heaven! not a dangerous wound. I can bandage it. But too much for a bridegroom.

Poor lad! poor lad!"

He tore up his own handkerchief and made a pad of his sister's, but these were not enough. "Look here, Rebecca," he said; "you'd better go and leave us."

"Nonsense!" said the lady sternly. "Go on with your work, and then a doctor must be fetched."

"Very well, then, if you will stay. There, don't try to revive him yet.

Let's finish. Guest, my lad, take that knife and slit one of the sheets in the next room; then tear off a bandage four inches wide and as long as you can. Let's stop the bleeding, and he won't hurt."

All was done as he ordered, and the bandage roughly fixed, Stratton perfectly insensible the while.

"'Becca, my dear--Guest, my lad," said the admiral huskily. "Never felt so sorry in my life." Then, taking Stratton's hand between both his own, he said, in a low voice, "I beg your pardon, my lad, humbly."

"I don't like this long insensibility, Mark," said Miss Jerrold.

"No; it's too long. Has he any rum or brandy in the place?"

"Yes," said Guest eagerly, and he hurried to the door of the bath-closet, and turned the handle, but it was locked. "How tiresome!"

he muttered. "Here, I know."

He dropped quickly on one knee by his friend, and thrust a hand into his coat pocket for his bunch of keys; when his hand came in contact with something, which he drew out with an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, and looked up at Sir Mark.

"A pistol!" said the latter, and they stared in each other's eyes, just as Stratton began to show signs of recovery.

"Why has he a pistol?" whispered Miss Jerrold; and her brother's whole manner changed.

"I was thinking that you ought to have fetched the police at once, my lad," he said; "but it's as well you did not. There are things men like hushed up."

"I--I--don't know what you mean," faltered Miss Jerrold, while Guest slowly laid the weapon on the table, looking ghastly pale, and feeling a sensation of heart-sickness and despair.

"Plain enough," said the admiral coldly. "There is something more, though, behind. Do you know what?" he cried sternly, as he fixed Guest with his eyes.

"On my honour, no, Sir Mark."

"It does not matter to us."

"But it does, Mark," cried Miss Jerrold piteously; "and I am confused.

What does it all mean?"

"Heaven and the man himself alone know."

"But, Mark, dear; I cannot understand."

"Not with this before you plainly stamped," said the admiral bitterly.

"Some old trouble--a lady, I suppose--men are all alike--there was an _expose_ imminent, I expect, and he sought a way out of it--the coward's way, and was too great a cur to take aim straight."

They all looked down in horror at Stratton, where he lay, to see that he was now sensible to their words, and glaring wildly from face to face.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE MAN IS MAD.

Stratton rose slowly, and he was evidently confused and not quite able to grasp all that had been going on, till a pang from his injured shoulder spurred his brain.

His right-hand went up to the bandage, and he began hastily to arrange his dress.

He was evidently sick and faint, but to restore his garments was for the moment the dominant idea.

Then another thought came, and he looked wildly round, hardly appearing to grasp the fact that friend and visitors had drawn back from him, while the former slowly unc.o.c.ked the revolver and carefully extracted the cartridges, noting that four were filled, and two empty.

Guest knew the billet of one of the bullets, and he involuntarily looked round for the other.

He had not far to seek. The shade covering the wired and mounted bones of an ancient extinct bird standing on a cabinet was shattered, and the bullet had cut through the neck vertebrae, and then buried itself in the oaken panelling.

Guest lowered his eyes to his task again, and slowly placed the cartridges in one pocket, the pistol in the other, when, raising his eyes, he met the admiral's shadowed by the heavy brows; and the old officer gave him a nod of approval.

"Well, Rebecca," he said, in a deep voice which seemed to hold the dying mutterings of the storm which had raged in his breast but a short time before; "we may go. I can't jump on a fallen man."

"Yes," said Miss Jerrold, with a look of sadness and sympathy at Stratton, who stood supporting himself against the table; "we had better go. O Malcolm Stratton," she cried pa.s.sionately, "and I did so believe in you."

He raised his face, with a momentary flush of pleasure bringing back something of its former aspect. But the gloom of despair came down like a cloud over a gleam of sunshine, and his chin fell upon his chest, though a movement now and then told that he was listening bitterly to every word.