With an effort she rose, put her hand to her forehead, and then ran like the wind down the garden and through the little door.
CHAPTER x.x.x
HAROLD TAKES THE NEWS
Mr. Quest and Harold bore the bleeding man--whether he was senseless or dead they knew not--into the house and laid him on the sofa. Then, having despatched a servant to seek a second doctor in case the one already gone for was out, they set to work to cut the clothes from his neck and arm, and do what they could, and that was little enough, towards staunching the bleeding. It soon, however, became evident that Cossey had only got the outside portion of the charge of No. 7 that is to say, he had been struck by about a hundred pellets of the three or four hundred which would go to the ordinary ounce and an eighth. Had he received the whole charge he must, at that distance, have been instantly killed. As it was, the point of the shoulder was riddled, and so to a somewhat smaller extent was the back of his neck and the region of the right ear. One or two outside pellets had also struck the head higher up, and the skin and muscles along the back were torn by the pa.s.sage of shot.
"By Jove!" said Mr. Quest, "I think he is done for."
The Colonel nodded. He had some experience of shot wounds, and the present was not of a nature to encourage hope of the patient"s survival.
"How did it happen?" asked Mr. Quest presently, as he mopped up the streaming blood with a sponge.
"It was an accident," groaned the Colonel. "Your wife was looking at my new gun. I told her it was loaded, and that she must be careful, and I thought she had put it down. The next thing that I heard was the report. It is all my cursed fault for leaving the cartridges in."
"Ah," said Mr. Quest. "She always thought she understood guns. It is a shocking accident."
Just then one of the doctors, followed by Belle Quest, ran up the lawn carrying a box of instruments, and in another minute was at work. He was a quick and skilful surgeon, and having announced that the patient was not dead, at once began to tie one of the smaller arteries in the throat, which had been pierced, and through which Edward Cossey was rapidly bleeding to death. By the time that this was done the other doctor, an older man, put in an appearance, and together they made a rapid examination of the injuries.
Belle stood by holding a basin of water. She did not speak, and on her face was that same fixed look of horror which Harold had observed after the discharge of the gun.
When the examination was finished the two doctors whispered together for a few seconds.
"Will he live?" asked Mr. Quest.
"We cannot say," answered the older doctor. "We do not think it likely that he will. It depends upon the extent of his injuries, and whether or no they have extended to the spine. If he does live he will probably be paralysed to some extent, and must certainly lose the hearing of the right ear."
When she heard this Belle sank down upon a chair overwhelmed. Then the two doctors, a.s.sisted by Harold, set to work to carry Edward Cossey into another room which had been rapidly prepared, leaving Mr. Quest alone with his wife.
He came, stood in front of her, looked her in the face, and then laughed.
"Upon my word," he said, "we men are bad enough, but you women beat us in wickedness."
"What do you mean?" she said faintly.
"I mean that you are a murderess, Belle," he said solemnly. "And you are a bungler, too. You could not hold the gun straight."
"I deny it," she said, "the gun went off----"
"Yes," he said, "you are wise to make no admissions; they might be used in evidence against you. Let me counsel you to make no admissions. But now look here. I suppose the man will have to lie in this house until he recovers or dies, and that you will help to nurse him. Well, I will have none of your murderous work going on here. Do you hear me? You are not to complete at leisure what you have begun in haste."
"What do you take me for?" she asked, with some return of spirit; "do you think that I would injure a wounded man?"
"I do not know," he answered, with a shrug, "and as for what I take you for, I take you for a woman whose pa.s.sion has made her mad," and he turned and left the room.
When they had carried Edward Cossey, dead or alive--and he looked more like death than life--up to the room prepared for him, seeing that he could be of no further use the Colonel left the house with a view of going to the Castle.
On his way out he looked into the drawing-room and there was Mrs.
Quest, still sitting on the chair and gazing blankly before her.
Pitying her he entered. "Come, cheer up, Mrs. Quest," he said kindly, "they hope that he will live."
She made no answer.
"It is an awful accident, but I am almost as culpable as you, for I left the cartridges in the gun. Anyhow, G.o.d"s will be done."
"G.o.d"s will!" she said, looking up, and then once more relapsed into silence.
He turned to go, when suddenly she rose and caught him by the arm.
"Will he die?" she said almost fiercely. "Tell me what you think--not what the doctors say; you have seen many wounded men and know better than they do. Tell me the truth."
"I cannot say," he answered, shaking his head.
Apparently she interpreted his answer in the affirmative. At any rate she covered her face with her hands.
"What would you do, Colonel Quaritch, if you had killed the only thing you loved in the whole world?" she asked dreamily. "Oh, what am I saying?--I am off my head. Leave me--go and tell Ida; it will be good news for Ida."
Accordingly he started for the Castle, having first picked up his gun on the spot where it had fallen from the hands of Mrs. Quest.
And then it was that for the first time the extraordinary importance of this dreadful accident in its bearing upon his own affairs flashed upon his mind. If Cossey died he could not marry Ida, that was clear.
This was what Mrs. Quest must have meant when she said that it would be good news for Ida. But how did she know anything about Ida"s engagement to Edward Cossey? And, by Jove! what did the woman mean when she asked what he would do if he had killed the only thing he loved in the world? Cossey must be the "only thing she loved," and now he thought of it, when she believed that he was dead she called him "Edward, Edward."
Harold Quaritch was as simple and unsuspicious a man as it would be easy to find, but he was no fool. He had moved about the world and on various occasions come in contact with cases of this sort, as most other men have done. He knew that when a woman, in a moment of distress, calls a man by his Christian name it is because she is in the habit of thinking of him and speaking to him by that name. Not that there was much in that by itself, but in public she called him "Mr. Cossey." "Edward" clearly then was the "only thing she loved,"
and Edward was secretly engaged to Ida, and Mrs. Quest knew it.
Now when a man who is not her husband has the fortune, or rather the misfortune, to be the only thing a married woman ever loved, and when that married woman is aware of the fact of his devotion and engagement to somebody else, it is obvious, he reflected, that in nine cases out of ten the knowledge will excite strong feelings in her breast, feelings indeed which in some natures would amount almost to madness.
When he had first seen Mrs. Quest that afternoon she and Cossey were alone together, and he had noticed something unusual about her, something unnatural and intense. Indeed, he remembered he had told her that she looked like the Tragic Muse. Could it be that the look was the look of a woman maddened by insult and jealousy, who was meditating some fearful crime? /How did that gun go off?/ He did not see it, and he thanked heaven that he did not, for we are not always so anxious to bring our fellow creatures to justice as we might be, especially when they happen to be young and lovely women. How did it go off? She understood guns; he could see that from the way she handled it. Was it likely that it exploded of itself, or owing to an accidental touch of the trigger? It was possible, but not likely.
Still, such things have been known to happen, and it would be very difficult to prove that it had not happened in this case. If it should be attempted murder it was very cleverly managed, because n.o.body could prove that it was not accidental. But could it be that this soft, beautiful, baby-faced woman had on the spur of the moment taken advantage of his loaded gun to wreak her jealousy and her wrongs upon her faithless lover? Well, the face is no mirror of the quality of the soul within, and it was possible. Further than that it did not seem to him to be his business to inquire.
By this time he had reached the Castle. The Squire had gone out but Ida was in, and he was shown into the drawing-room while the servant went to seek her. Presently he heard her dress rustle upon the stairs, and the sound of it sent the blood to his heart, for where is the music that is more sweet than the rustling of the dress of the woman whom we love?
"Why, what is the matter?" she said, noticing the disturbed expression on his face.
"Well," he said, "there has been an accident--a very bad accident."
"Who?" she said. "Not my father?"
"No, no; Mr. Cossey."
"Oh," she said, with a sigh of relief. "Why did you frighten me so?"
The Colonel smiled grimly at this unconscious exhibition of the relative state of her affections.
"What has happened to him?" asked Ida, this time with a suitable expression of concern.
"He has been accidentally shot."