"Oh, he"s ready!" Pearl interrupted him. "Don"t hold back on Arthur"s account."
"I can"t do it," he repeated hopelessly. "He"ll die under my knife, I can"t kill two men in one night. O G.o.d, be merciful to a poor, blundering, miserable wretch!" he groaned, burying his face in his hands, and Pearl noticed that the back of his coat quivered like human flesh.
Arthur"s breath was becoming more and more laboured; his eyes roved sightlessly around the room; his head rolled on the pillow in a vain search for rest; his fingers clutched convulsively at the bed-clothes.
Pearl was filled with dismay. The foundations of her little world were tottering.
All but One. There was One who had never failed her. He would not fail her now.
She dropped on her knees.
"O G.o.d, dear G.o.d," she prayed, beating her hard little brown hands together, "don"t go back on us, dear G.o.d. Put the gimp into Doc again; he"s not scared to do it, Lord, he"s just lost his grip for a minute; he"s not scared Lord; it looks like it, but he isn"t. You can bank on Doc, Lord, he"s not scared. Bear with him, dear Lord, just a minute--just a minute--he"ll do it, and he"ll do it right, Amen."
When Pearl rose from her knees the doctor had lifted his head.
"Do you want hot water and sheets and carbolic?" she asked.
He nodded.
When she came back with them the doctor was taking off his coat. His instruments were laid out on the box.
"Get a lamp," he said to Pearl.
Pearl"s happy heart was singing with joy. "O Lord, dear Lord, You never fail," she murmured as she ran across to the kitchen.
When she came back with the lamp and a chair to set it on, the doctor was pinning a sheet above the bed. His face was white and drawn, but his hand was firm and his mouth was a straight line.
Arthur was tossing his arms convulsively.
The doctor listened with his ear a minute upon the sick man"s heart, then the gauze mask was laid upon his face and the chloroform soon did its merciful work.
The doctor handed Pearl the bottle. "A drop or two if he moves," he said.
Then Horace Clay, the man with a man"s mistakes, his fears, his heart-burnings, was gone, and in his place stood Horace Clay, the doctor, keen, alert, masterful, indomitable, with the look of battle on his face. He worked rapidly, never faltering; his eyes burning with the joy of the true physician who fights to save, to save a human life from the grim old enemy, Death.
"You have saved his life, Pearl," the doctor said two hours later.
Arthur lay sleeping easily, the flush gone from his face, and his breath coming regularly.
The doctor put his hand gently on her tumbled little brown head.
"You saved him from death, Pearl, and me--from something worse."
And then Pearl took the doctor"s hand in both of hers, and kissed it reverently.
"That"s for Thursa," she said, gravely.
Tom was awakened by some one shaking him gently.
"Tom, Tom Motherwell, what are you doing here?"
A woman knelt beside him; her eyes were sweet and kind and sad beyond expression.
"Tom, how did you come here?" she asked, gently, as Tom struggled to rise.
He sat up, staring stupidly around him. "Wha" "s a matter? Where"s this?" he asked thickly.
"You"re in the sitting-room at the hotel," she said. He would have lain down again, but she took him firmly by the arm.
"Come Tom," she said. "Come and have a drink of water."
She led him out of the hotel to the pump at the corner of the street.
Tom drank thirstily. She pumped water on his hands, and bathed his burning face in it. The cold water and the fresh air began to clear his brain.
"What time is it?" he asked her.
"Nearly morning," she said. "About half-past three, I think," and Tom knew even in the darkness that she had lost more teeth. It was Mrs.
Skinner.
"Tom," she said, "did you see Skinner in there? I came down to get him--I want him--the child is dead an hour ago." She spoke hurriedly.
Tom remembered now. Yes, he had seen Skinner, but not lately; it was a long, long time ago.
"Now Tom, go home," she said kindly. "This is bad work for you, my dear boy. Stop it now, dear Tom, while you can. It will kill you, body and soul."
A thought struggled in Tom"s dull brain. There was something he wanted to say to her which must be said; but she was gone.
He drank again from the cup that hung beside the pump. Where did he get this burning thirst, and his head, how it pounded! She had told him to go home. Well, why wasn"t he at home? What was he doing here?
Slowly his memory came back--he had come for the doctor; and the doctor was to be back in an hour, and now it was nearly morning, didn"t she say?
He tried to run, but his knees failed him--what about Arthur? He grew chill at the thought--he might be dead by this time.
He reached the doctor"s office some way. His head still throbbed and his feet were heavy as lead; but his mind was clear.
A lamp was burning in the office but no one was in. It seemed a month ago since he had been there before. The air of the office was close and stifling, and heavy with stale tobacco smoke. Tom sat down, wearily, in the doctor"s armchair; his heart beat painfully--he"ll be dead--he"ll be dead--he"ll be dead--it was pounding. The clock on the table was saying it too. Tom got up and walked up and down to drown the sound. He stopped before a cabinet and gazed horrified at a human skeleton that grinned evilly at him. He opened the door hastily, the night wind fanned his face. He sat down upon the step, thoroughly sober now, but sick in body and soul.
Soon a heavy step sounded on the sidewalk, and the old doctor came into the patch of light that shone from the door.
"Do you want me?" he asked as Tom stood up.
"Yes," Tom answered; "at once."
"What"s wrong?" the doctor asked brusquely.
Tom told him as well as he could.
"Were you here before, early in the evening?"