A Gamble with Life. Hocking Silas Kitto

went so far as to suggest that if there was such a thing as gratitude in the world, Sir Charles Tregony would do something handsome for him.

      It was fortunate, perhaps, for Rufus that he heard none of the irresponsible chatter that went on round him while he was being conveyed from the quay to Mrs. Tuke's cottage. Momentary glimmers of consciousness came back to him, but accompanied by such insufferable torture, that his very brain seemed to stagger under the shock.

      Dr. Pendarvis had just returned from a long round in the country, and was listening to a more or less incoherent story told him by his wife, when there came a violent ring at the surgery bell.

      "You say that Chester has gone to the Hall to see Miss Grover?" the Doctor questioned.

      "That is as I understand it," his wife replied; "though I confess the story is a bit complicated."

      "In which way?"

      "Well, late this afternoon Miss Grover rushed into the town considerably dishevelled and in a state of breathless excitement, and told the first man she saw, which happened to be Greensplat, that Rufus Sterne was lying at the foot of the cliffs near Penwith Cove with a broken leg, and that if he wasn't rescued quickly he would be drowned."

      "And has he been rescued?"

      "I don't know. But some considerable time after one of the Hall servants came hurrying here for you, saying that you were wanted at once as Miss Grover had met with an accident, and as you were not at home, of course, Mr. Chester went."

      "I don't see how the two things hang together," Dr. Pendarvis said, with knitted brows.

      "Neither do I," replied his wife; "but there goes the surgery bell again."

      Five minutes later Dr. Pendarvis was hurrying down the long main street in the direction of Mrs. Tuke's cottage. He found Rufus in a state of collapse, and with the broken limb so swollen that he made no attempt to set the bone.

      "We will have to get the swelling down first," he explained in his old-fashioned way. "Meanwhile, we must make the patient as comfortable as possible."

      What he said to himself was, "This is a case for Chester. These young men, with their hospital practice and their up-to-date methods, can make rings round the ordinary G.P."

      When he got back to his house he found his assistant waiting for him.

      "So you have been to the Hall, I understand?" he questioned. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

      "Oh, no! an attack of nerves mainly. A few cuts and bruises, but they are scarcely more than skin deep. She's evidently had a narrow squeak though."

      "Ah! I tried to get something out of Sterne, but he's in too much pain to be very communicative."

      "What was troubling Miss Grover most when I got there," Chester replied, "was the fear that he had not been rescued."

      "An attachment between them already?" the elder man queried, with a twinkle in his eye.

      "I don't think so," was the reply, "though naturally if a man saves a woman's life she becomes interested in him."

      "Unless he happens to be a doctor, eh?"

      "Oh! well, doctors do not count," Chester said, with a laugh.

      "Perhaps women have no faith in our ability to save life," Dr. Pendarvis questioned.

      "Oh, yes, I think they have," the younger man replied, slowly; "but then you see, we do it professionally. There is no touch of romance about it, and we are not supposed to take any risks."

      "We take the fees instead," the older man laughed.

      "When we can get them. But do you know in what relationship Miss Grover stands to the Tregony family?"

      "Not the ghost of an idea. Sir Charles is as close as an oyster on the subject, and as far as I can make out, the girl is not in the habit of talking about herself."

      "She's distinctly American," Chester said, thoughtfully.

      "And therefore piquant and interesting?"

      "I prefer English girls myself; that is, in so far as girls interest me at all."

      "You think you are proof against their wiles?"

      "I hope I am, though it is a matter on which one does not like to boast."

      "Better not," Pendarvis laughed, "better not. I've heard many men boast in my time, and seen them go down like ninepins before the whirlwind of a petticoat."

      "It's a bit humiliating, don't you think?"

      "It all depends on how you look at it. You see, we have to take human nature as it is, and not how we would like it to be. It is just because we are men that women triumph over us."

      "Then you admit that they are our masters?"

      "Not the least doubt of it. Of course, we keep up the pretence of being the head and all that. But a woman who knows her business can twist a man round her finger and thumb."

      "I believe you, and for that reason I do not intend to get entangled in the yoke of bondage."

      "Be careful," the older man laughed. "There are bright eyes and pretty frocks in an out-of-the-way place like St. Gaved. But let us get back to something more practical. I want you to call round and see Sterne first thing to-morrow morning."

      "He has broken his leg, I suppose?"

      "I fear it's a very bad fracture, and being tumbled about so much since the accident has not tended to mend matters. I hope by to-morrow morning the swelling will have subsided."

      "It seems very unfortunate for him, for I understand he has some big scheme on hand which he is labouring to complete."

      "So it is said. But I have no faith in these big schemes. Young men should keep to their legitimate work. It may be a mercy for him if his scheme is knocked on the head." Saying which he bade his assistant good-night and retired to his own room.

      CHAPTER VIII

      THE SOUL'S AWAKENING

      Two people did not sleep at all that night. Pain kept Rufus Sterne awake – an active brain banished slumber from the eyes of Madeline Grover. Possibly some subtle and intractable current of sympathy ran between the cottage and the mansion – some occult and undiscovered movement of the air between brain and brain or heart and heart, some telepathic communication that science had not scheduled yet. Be that as it may, neither Rufus nor Madeline could woo a wink of sleep. All through the long hours of the night they lay with wide-open eyes – the one weaving the threads of fancy into all imaginable shapes, the other fighting for the most part the twin demons of pain and fear.

      Madeline lived through that fateful afternoon a thousand times. She recalled every incident, however trivial it might be. Memory would let nothing escape. Things that she scarcely noticed at the time became hugely significant. Simple words and gestures seemed to glow with new meanings.

      She was not superstitious – at least she believed she was not. Neither was she a fatalist, and yet she had a feeling that for good or ill, her life was in some way or other bound up with this stranger. It was not his fault that he had come into her life. He had not sought her. The beginning of the acquaintanceship was all on her side. She had made the first advance, and the whirligig of chance or the workings of an inscrutable providence had done all the rest.

      In some respects it was scarcely pleasant to feel that she was so much in debt to a stranger. Whatever might happen in the future, or wherever her lot was cast, she would never be able to get away from the feeling that she owed her life to this Rufus Sterne. To make matters all the worse, he was suffering considerable pain and loss on her account. How much this accident might mean to him she had no means of knowing. All his immediate prospects might be wrecked in consequence. For a young man dependent on his own exertions to be incapacitated for two or three months might be a more serious matter than she could guess.

      Sometimes she wished that some homely fisherman or ignorant ploughboy had rescued her. She might in such a case have given material compensation, and it would have been accepted with gratitude, and her obligation would be at an end.

      But Rufus