Blind Policy. Fenn George Manville

and as he saw her action, Chester tried to check her. But she gave him a reproachful glance, and passed her soft white arms about the patient’s head, but without touching him; and the loving kiss she breathed, as it were, upon his lips. Then she rose, sobbing gently, with all the strength of her mind and force of action seeming to have passed away, as with outstretched hands she caught at the nearest object to save herself from falling.

      That nearest object was Chester; and the next moment she was weeping in his arms.

      “You have given him back to me,” she sobbed, her voice little above a whisper. “You have saved him. How can I ever repay you for what you have done?”

      The minute before he had been strong; now as he felt the sobs rising from the labouring breast, and clasped her throbbing, palpitating form closer and – closer, – “Marion!”

      Her name – nothing more; but he felt her tremble in his arms and hang more heavily as her head sank slowly back, bringing her lips nearer his; and the next moment she uttered a low sigh, breathed in their lengthened kiss.

      “Out of what comedy is this, doctor?” said a harsh, familiar voice; and as they started angrily apart, Jem, as they called him, advanced quickly from the silently opened door, straight towards Marion, upon whom he fixed his fierce eyes, as he spoke to her companion. “French, I suppose – a translation. I congratulate you, doctor – both of you. It was so real – so passionately grand. And you,” he literally hissed now, “most loving sister! Pour passer le temps, of course. The ennui of long nursing. Curse you!” he whispered savagely, as he stopped before her, and with a quick movement caught her by the wrist.

      The next moment he uttered a hoarse cry of rage, for, stung to madness by the brutal act, Chester sprang at him, forcing him back over the table before which he stood, while Marion was flung aside.

      Chapter Seven.

      A Black Cloud Behind

      “Where am I?”

      Head throbbing horribly, a nauseous taste in the mouth, throat constricted and painful upon an attempt to swallow, and a strange mental confusion which provoked the above question.

      The answer came at once.

      In a miserable, musty-smelling, four-wheeled cab, whose windows were drawn up, and so spattered with mud and the heavy rain which fell upon the roof that the gleam from the street lamps only produced a dim, hazy light within, as the vehicle jangled slowly along, with wheels and some loose piece of iron rattling loudly in concert with the beat of the horse’s feet.

      “Whatever am I doing here?” was Fred Chester’s next question.

      Lying back in the corner, in an awkward position, as if in a state of collapse, and only saved from subsiding into the bottom of the cab by his feet being propped up on the front cushion, the doctor kept perfectly still trying to think, but every retrogressive attempt gave the idea that he was gazing at a vast black cloud which completely shut out the past.

      He uttered a faint groan, for he felt startled; but after lying back listening to the beating rain and the jarring of the ill-fitting glasses, he recovered somewhat.

      “How absurd!” he muttered. “Where am I going? Ask the driver.”

      He drew up his legs and let his feet drop into the cab, as he tried to sit up, but the effort gave him the sensation of molten lead running from one of his temples to the other, and he lay perfectly still while the agonising pain passed slowly away, trying hard to think what had happened, but in vain. There was the black cloud before him mentally, though he could see the gleaming of a lamp he passed through the blurred panes of glass.

      At last, feeling more and more startled by his condition, he made a brave effort, raised himself upright, and reached out for the strap, so as to lower the front window; but at the first movement he was seized with a sickening giddiness, lurched forward, and thrust himself back to recline in the corner again till the molten lead had ceased to flow from side to side of his head.

      At last, very slowly and cautiously, bit by bit, he edged himself forward till his knees rested against the front cushion, and then, thrusting one hand into the left corner, he reached out for the strap, raised the window, and let it glide sharply and loudly down.

      “Hi! Cabby!” he cried hoarsely.

      “Right, sir!” came back, and the cab was drawn up by the kerb beneath the next street lamp.

      Then the driver got down and opened the door, to stand with the rain streaming off his waterproof hat and cape.

      “Mornin’, sir,” he said in a husky voice, closely following a chuckle. “Feel better now?”

      “No, I am horribly ill. Where am I?”

      “Why, here, sir,” said the man, chuckling. “My word, it’s a wet ’un outside.”

      “But what street’s this?”

      “Halkin Street, Belgrave Square, sir.”

      “What? But how came I in your cab? – I can’t remember.”

      “S’pose not, sir,” said the man, good-humouredly. “Does make yer feel a bit muzzy till yer’ve had another snooze. Shall I try and find one o’ the early purlers where the market-garden chaps goes?”

      “What? What do you mean?”

      “Drop o’ somethin’ to clear your head, sir – and keep some o’ the wet out o’ me.”

      “But – but I don’t understand you,” cried Chester, whose head still throbbed so that he dreaded losing his senses again.

      “Oh, it’s all right, sir. Have a drop o’ something; you’ll be better then.”

      “But how came I in your cab?”

      “Your friend and me put you there, sir.”

      “My friend?”

      “Yes, him as you’d been dining with, sir; on’y you don’t seem to ha’ heat much.”

      “My friend?”

      “Yes, sir; that’s right.”

      “Where was it?”

      “Pickydilly Circus; ’bout three hours ago.”

      “Yes – yes. Well?”

      “And he says, ‘Take care of him, kebby,’ he says, ‘and drive him home. Bad cham,’ he says, ‘and he ain’t used to it.’”

      “Then why didn’t you drive me home?” cried Chester, angrily.

      “S’elp me! I like that! – I did; and no one was sittin’ up for yer; I knocked and rung for ’bout arf an hour before the old chap shoved up the winder and began a-cussin’ and a-swearin’ at me awful.”

      “What old chap?” faltered Chester in his amaze.

      “Your old guv’nor, I s’pose; and he wouldn’t come down, and told me to drive you to the ‘oh no, we never mentions him!’ for you warn’t coming in there. Then he bangs down the winder, and I waited ten minutes for him to get cool, and then knocks and rings again. This time he shoves up the winder and swears he’d shoot at me if I warn’t off; and as I got set agen ’orspittles ever since I was there for two months, I got up on the box again and drove off, for there was a bobby coming up; and I’ve been driving you about ever since.”

      “Driving me about ever since?”

      “That’s so, sir. We’ve been round Belgrave Square about a dozen times, and I was just going to drive you back to our stables, where it ain’t quite so wet, when you downed the window.”

      “I can’t grasp it,” said Chester, hoarsely.

      “Oh, never you mind about that, sir; you’ll be all right soon. You see, beggin’ your pardon, you was precious tight, and your friend had all he could do to hold you up. ‘Just like a jelly, kebby,’ he says; and you was, sir. Your legs doubled up like a two-foot rule with a weak jynte.”

      “My