Johnny Ludlow Third Series Part 30

"Shuttleworth says the kind of practice is not what he has been accustomed to, and the work's too hard, and he does not care how soon he leaves it. And yet Dockett has come on surprisingly, and takes his share now. The fact is, Arnold, Shuttleworth is just as lazy as he can hang together: he'd like to treat a dozen rose-water patients a-day, and go through life easily. My belief is, he means to do it."

"But that will scarcely bring grist to his mill, will it?" cried Dr.

Knox.

"His mill doesn't want grist; there's the worst of it," said Tamlyn.

"The man was not badly off when he came here: but since then his only brother must go and die, and Shuttleworth has come into all his money.

A thousand a-year, if it's a penny."

"Then, I certainly don't wonder at his wanting to give up the practice,"

returned the doctor, with a smile.

"That's not all," grumbled old Tamlyn. "He wants to take away Bessy."

"To take away Bessy!"

"The two have determined to make themselves into one, I believe. Bessy only hesitated because of leaving poor Bertie. That impediment will not be in her way long."

He sighed as he spoke. Dr. Knox did not yet see what he was wanted for: and asked again.

"I've been leading up to it," said Mr. Tamlyn. "You must come back to me, Arnold."

"On the same terms as before?" inquired the doctor, after a pause.

"Nonsense. You'd say 'No,' off-hand, if I proposed _them_. In Shuttleworth's place."

"Of course, Mr. Tamlyn, I could not come--I would not come unless it were made worth my while. If it were, I should like it of all things."

"Yes, just so; that's what I mean. Don't you like your post in London?"

"I like it very well, indeed. And I have had no doubt that it will lead to something better. But, if I saw a fair prospect before me here, I should prefer to come back to Lefford."

"_That_ shall be made fair enough. Things have changed with me, Arnold: and I shouldn't wonder but you will some time, perhaps not very far distant, have all my practice in your own hands. I feel to be getting old: spirits and health are alike broken."

"Nay, not old yet, Mr. Tamlyn. You may wait a good twenty years for that."

"Well, well, we'll talk further at another interview. My mind's at rest now, and that's a great thing. If you had refused, Arnold, I should have sold my practice for an old song, and gone clean away: I never could have stood being a.s.sociated with another stranger. You are going up home, I conclude. Will you come in this evening?"

"Very well," said Dr. Knox, rising. "Can I go up and see Bertie?"

"Not now; I'd not have him awakened for the world; and I a.s.sure you the turning of a straw seems to do it. You shall see him this evening: he is always awake and restless then."

Calling for his bag at the station, Dr. Knox went on to Rose Villa. They were at tea. The children rose up with a shout: his step-mother looked as though she could not believe her eyesight.

"Why, Arnold! Have you come home to stay?"

"Only for a day or two," he answered. "I thought I should surprise you, but I had not time to write."

Shaking hands with her, kissing the children, he turned to some one else, who was seated at the tea-table and had not stirred. His hand was already out, when she turned her head, and he drew back his hand and himself together.

"Miss Mack, my new governess," spoke Mrs. Knox.

"I beg your pardon," said Dr. Knox to Miss Mack, who turned out to be a young person in green, with stout legs and slippers down at heel. "I thought it was Miss Carey," he added to his step-mother. "Where is Miss Carey?"

Which of the company, Miss Mack excepted, talked the fastest, and which the loudest, could not have been decided though a thousand-pound wager rested on it. It was a dreadful tale to tell. Janet Carey had turned out to be a thief; Janet Carey had gone out of her mind nearly with fever and fear when she knew she was to be taken to prison and tried: tried for stealing the money; and Janet's aunt had come down and carried her away out of the reach of the policemen. Dr. Knox gazed and listened, and felt his blood turning cold with righteous horror.

"Be silent," he sternly said. "There must have been some strange mistake. Miss Carey was good and upright as the day."

"She stole my fifty pounds," said Mrs. Knox.

"_What?_"

"She stole my fifty-pound note. It was the one you sent me, Arnold."

His face reddened a little. "That note? Well, I do not know the circ.u.mstances that led you to accuse Miss Carey; but I know they were mistaken ones. I will answer for Janet Carey with my life."

"She took that note; it could not have gone in any other manner,"

steadily persisted Mrs. Knox. "You'll say so yourself, Arnold, when you know all. The commotion it has caused in the place, and the worry it has caused me are beyond everything. Every day some tradesman or other comes here to ask whether the money has been replaced--for of course they know I can't pay them under such a loss, until it is; and I must say they have behaved very well. I never liked Janet Carey. Deceitful minx!"

With so many talking together, Dr. Knox did not gather a very clear account of the details. Mrs. Knox mixed up surmises with facts in a manner to render the whole incomprehensible. He said no more then.

Later, Mrs. Knox saw that he was preparing to go out. She resented it.

"I think, Arnold, you might have pa.s.sed this one evening at home: I want to have a talk with you about money matters. What I am to do is more than I know, unless Janet Carey or her friends can be made to return the money."

"I am going down to Tamlyn's, to see Bertie."

Dr. Knox let himself out at the street-door, and was walking down the garden-path, when he found somebody come flying past. It was Sally the housemaid, on her way to open the gate for him. Such an act of attention was unusual and quite unnecessary; the doctor thanked her, but told her she need not have taken the trouble.

"I--I thought I'd like to ask you, sir, how that--that poor Miss Carey is," said Sally, in a whisper, as she held the gate back, and her breath was so short as to hinder her words. "It was London she was took to, sir; and, as you live in the same town, I've wondered whether you might not have come across her."

"London is a large place," observed Dr. Knox. "I did not even know Miss Carey was there."

"It was a dreadful thing, sir, poor young lady. Everybody so harsh, too, over it. And I--I--I _can't_ believe but she was innocent."

"It is simply an insult on Miss Carey to suppose otherwise," said Dr.

Knox. "Are you well, Sally? What's the matter with your breath?"

"Oh, it's nothing but a st.i.tch that takes me, thank you, sir," returned Sally, as she shut the gate after him and flew back again.

But Dr. Knox saw it was no "st.i.tch" that had stopped Sally's breath and checked her utterance, but genuine agitation. It set him thinking.

No longer any sitting up for poor Bertie Tamlyn in this world! It was about eight o'clock when Dr. Knox entered the sick-chamber. Bertie lay in bed; his arms thrown outside the counterpane beside him, as though they were too warm. The fire gave out its heat; two lamps were burning, one on the mantelpiece, one on the drawers at the far end of the room.

Bertie had always liked a great deal of light, and he liked it still.

Miss Tamlyn met Dr. Knox at the door, and silently shook hands with him.

Bertie's wide-open eyes turned to look, and the doctor approached the bed; but he halted for one imperceptible moment in his course. When Mr.

Tamlyn had said Bertie was dying, Arnold Knox had a.s.sumed it to mean, not that he was actually dying at that present time, but that he would not recover! But as he gazed at Bertie now in the bright light, he saw something in the face that his experienced medical eye could not mistake.