Blind Policy. Fenn George Manville

Well, you cannot. This dining-room has no windows, and is lit up night and day. You are a prisoner, my dear sir, and you will not communicate with the servants, for you will see none. These gentlemen will help me as your gaolers; an eminently respectable old housekeeper – lady-like I may say, eh, Paddy?”

      The young man addressed nodded and grinned.

      “A lady-like body will see that all your animal wants are provided for; a chair-bed will be brought in; and to make your stay more pleasant two or three of us will take you to the billiard-room overhead and have a game with you – by the way, that place has only skylights. Where we stand used to be a sooty cat-walk of a garden till we built these rooms over. A great improvement to the house.”

      “Who are you? What house is this?” said Chester, sharply.

      “Your host, sir; and the house is ours – at your service. Better have a cigar. ‘Needs must when the devil drives.’ That is your position now – I playing the devil.”

      A low moan from the wounded man changed the current of the doctor’s thoughts; and with the others watching him curiously, he went straight to his patient’s side to place a cushion behind him and relieve the pressure upon his wound, after which the patient seemed to sink once more into a state of repose.

      As Chester left him he received an approving nod.

      “We fellows would not have thought of that. Ah, here’s the coffee. Come, doctor, accept your position. It is folly to beat against the bars of a prison when they are too strong.”

      For at that moment the heavy-faced young man, who seemed to be a thorough athlete, came back into the room from the other end, bearing a silver tray with handsome fittings; and Chester started slightly, for he had not seen him go, and he realised now that he must have been occupied for some little time with his patient.

      Just then he saw that the leader of the little party whispered something which he interpreted to mean, “Let him alone; he’ll come to his senses;” and he began to think out his position.

      Everything seemed in accordance with what had been told him: he was alone, one man against four – gentlemen, evidently, but plainly enough strongly-built, athletic fellows, who looked to be lovers of out-door sports, and each of them in a struggle more than his match.

      His rage had cooled down somewhat, and his common-sense began to prevail. It was hard to master his resentment, and he could not make out what was at the back of it all, more than what was evidently plain – a terrible family quarrel, the participators in which were anxious to keep out of the papers, and possibly from the police courts. He did not know who they were, nor, as he realised now, in what street he was; but that, he felt, he could soon make out. It was awkward. They would be anxious in Raybeck Square, but he would send a message and set them at rest.

      “I wonder whether they kept Bel all night,” he said to himself; and at this thought others came, and among them a strange feeling of annoyance with himself as he recalled his feelings, during the little journey, towards his summoner.

      Then he hurriedly cast these thoughts aside, and began once more to ponder on his position, walking slowly to and fro, close to the couch, while the little party, who had lit up cigars, now began to sip their coffee.

      The next minute the heavy-faced young fellow known as “Paddy” approached him with a cup and the cigar-case.

      “I put a liqueur of brandy in it, doctor,” he said in a low voice. “I say, do you think the poor chap will get over it?”

      “I hope so,” replied Chester, shortly.

      “Thank God!” said the young man, warmly. “I say, doctor, don’t cut up rough. You’re in a hole, but I’ll see you’re all right. You’ll take a cigar?”

      He said the last words so reproachfully that Chester could hardly forbear to smile; and he took a cigar, lit it, and then, feeling utterly exhausted, tossed off the coffee and brandy, after which he resumed his walk up and down by the couch.

      “‘Needs must when the devil drives,’” he said to himself. “It’s of no use to fight. I must pull this poor fellow through, but I’ll make them pay for it. Seems like a dream. I suppose I am awake.”

      The coffee and cigar were having their effect, and at the end of an hour, during which the party at the end of the table had been conversing in a low voice, a moan or two from the sufferer finished the tendency towards submission, and Chester busied himself for some time about the couch. Then, rising once more, “Pen and ink,” he said shortly, and the heavy-featured young fellow fetched him a blotting-case and inkstand.

      “A telegraph form, too.”

      “Plenty there, doctor.”

      Chester wrote quickly for a few minutes, and then handed a couple of papers to the young fellow, who had stopped close at hand.

      “I want this prescription made up at the chemist’s, and the telegram sent respecting a substitute to see my patients.”

      “All right, doctor,” and the recipient took both to the end of the table, and gave them to the man who seemed to be his brother.

      The latter took the papers and rose to cross to Chester.

      “Thank you, doctor,” he said quietly. “You will do your best, I see. Please bear in mind that money is no object to us here. Our cousin’s life is.”

      He went out of the room directly, returned soon after, and brought with him a quiet, sedate-looking old lady in black silk and white apron.

      She was very pale, and her eyes looked wild and strange, as she went straight to the couch, leaned over and kissed the patient’s forehead, and then set to work and cleared the disordered table, almost without a sound, two of the young men joining her and helping to carry the dessert things out by the farther door.

      Chester’s face must have told tales, for he started round in surprise to find that he had been carefully watched by the leader of the little plot to detain him.

      “You could not get out that way, doctor,” he said quietly. “We are a very united family here, and the housekeeper is devoted to us.”

      Chester frowned with annoyance.

      “I understand you,” he said; “but mind this: every dog has his day, sir, and mine will come, unless revolvers are brought into play and an awkward witness silenced.”

      “My dear doctor, you are romantic,” was the sarcastic reply. “Don’t be alarmed; we shall not shoot and bury you on the premises, for sanitary reasons. It might affect the nerves of our ladies, too. There, all we want of you is your skill to set that poor fellow right, and then you can return home, better paid than seeing ordinary patients. How does he seem?”

      An angry retort was at Chester’s lips, but he did not utter it. He accepted his position, for the time being, and replied quietly —

      “Going on well, but he will be the better for a sedative. Feverish, of course. Have you sent that prescription?”

      “Yes, it has been taken, and the chemist will be rung up to dispense it. I say, doctor; no fear of a bad ending?”

      “And no thanks to the man who fired at him from behind,” said Chester, looking straight at his questioner as he spoke. “Fortunately the bullet passed diagonally by his ribs, an inch to the right – ”

      “Yes, yes, the old story, doctor; but I did not fire the shot.”

      “Pray don’t excuse yourself, sir,” said Chester, coldly. “I am not a magistrate; only a medical man with the customary knowledge of surgery.”

      “And a little more, too,” was the reply, with a smile. “There, doctor, we will not quarrel this morning, and you will not introduce the matter to the police. It will pay you better to be silent; but if you preferred to talk about it I’m afraid you would not be believed.”

      The speaker smiled cynically as he saw the effect of his words, and walked away, leaving Chester thinking deeply, and, in spite of his anger and annoyance, beginning more and more to feel that he had better accept his position.

      “It