_ PART I CHAPTER VI. THE PAIN-KILLER
"I am going over to Brethaven to see Mrs. Briggs to-day," Olga announced nearly a week later, waylaying Max after breakfast on his way to the surgery with the air of one prepared to resist opposition. "Are you wanting the car this morning, Dr. Wyndham?"
She knew that he would be engaged at the cottage-hospital that morning, but it was one of Dr. Ratcliffe's strict rules that the car should never be used unprofessionally without express permission from himself or his assistant. Naturally Olga resented having to observe this rule in her father's absence and her manner betrayed as much, but she was too conscientious to neglect its observance.
"You don't propose to go alone, I suppose?" said Max, pausing.
This was another of her father's rules and one which Olga had often vainly attempted to persuade him to rescind. Under these circumstances, Max's question seemed little short of an insult.
"I don't see what that has to do with it," she said.
Max looked at his watch, then turned squarely and faced her. "With me, you mean. Very likely not. But there is a remote connection or I shouldn't ask. Are you going to take Nick with you?"
"He is going part of the way," said Olga, striving for dignity.
"Only part?"
"As far as the station," she returned, almost in spite of herself.
"Going up to town, is he?" said Max. "Well, that doesn't help much. Take one of the boys!"
"I don't want one of the boys," Olga spoke with sudden irritation. "Violet is going with me," she said.
His face changed very slightly, almost imperceptibly. "In that case you must take Mitchel," he said.
"How absurd!" exclaimed Olga.
"No, it isn't absurd. It's quite reasonable from my point of view. If you can't take Mitchel with you, I can't spare the car."
He smiled a little as he pronounced this decision, but quite plainly his mind was made up.
Olga bit her lip in exasperation. "Do you think I am not to be trusted to take care of her?" she asked him scornfully. "I shall ask Nick if I need do anything so ridiculous!"
"Here he is," said Nick, coming lightly up behind her with the words. "What's the trouble now? If you are requiring my valuable advice, it is quite at your service."
Olga turned to him at once. "Nick, it's really too silly for words. Dr. Wyndham makes mountains out of molehills."
"That's very ingenious of him," commented Nick. "I shouldn't harass the man if I were you, Olga. He's been out all night."
Olga pounced upon this fact. "I expect Mitchel has too, then, so he just won't be able to go."
"No," said Max. "I didn't take the car or Mitchel. It chanced to be a case in the village, and I bicycled."
"Who was it?" asked Olga eagerly; and then restrained herself with annoyance. "But of course you won't tell me. You're much too professional."
"Keep to the point!" ordered Nick.
Olga slipped a coaxing arm round his neck. "Nick, don't you think it absurd that Violet and I shouldn't motor over to Brethaven without a man to take care of us? I am quite certain Dad wouldn't object."
"There you are wrong," said Max. "If your father were here, he would forbid it--as I do."
He spoke with emphasis, and glanced again at his watch as he did so.
"He doesn't object to my going alone with one of the boys," said Olga. "It's only Violet who is too precious to go motoring without a full-grown escort. As if I weren't quite capable of taking care of her!"
"It's not that at all," said Max curtly. "I can't stop to argue, so please make up your mind what you are going to do. I'm sorry you've been dragged into the discussion, Ratcliffe. I daresay it seems a senseless one to you, but I have my reasons."
Nick looked at him for a moment, a quick gleam of comprehension behind his flickering eyelids. "It won't hurt you to take Mitchel, Olga _mia_," he said.
"Oh, Nick!" There was deep reproach in Olga's voice, and at sound of it Max smiled with dry humour.
Nick laughed outright, openly heartless. "My beloved chicken, who is making mountains out of molehills now? I would escort you myself if I hadn't got to attend this committee meeting in town,--a million plagues upon it! Come along and open my letters for me! We are wasting time."
"I do think you needn't take his part," said Olga, as Max disappeared into the surgery. "He's quite bullying and tyrannical enough without that."
"I'm inclined to sympathize with the young man myself," said Nick. "He wouldn't bully you if you weren't so nasty."
"Nick, I'm not nasty!"
"I should detest you if I were Max," said Nick, squeezing her affectionately with his one wiry arm.
"It isn't my fault we are antipathetic," protested Olga. "For goodness' sake, Nick, don't start liking him! But I'm sure you don't in your heart of hearts. You simply couldn't."
"Why not?" said Nick.
"Oh, Nick, you don't! You know you don't! He's so cold-blooded and cynical."
"Do you want to know what he was up to last night?" said Nick.
"Yes, tell me!" said Olga.
"He was sent for last thing by some people who live in that filthy alley--near the green pond. A child was choking. They thought it had swallowed a pin. When he got there, he found it was diphtheria at its most advanced stage. The child was at death's door. He had to perform an operation at a moment's notice, hadn't got the proper paraphernalia with him, and sucked the poison out himself."
"Good heavens, Nick!" said Olga, turning very white. "And the child?"
"The child is better. It is to be taken to the hospital to-day."
"Will it--won't it--have an effect on him?" gasped Olga.
"Heavens knows," said Nick.
"And that's why he didn't come down to breakfast," she said. "How did you find out about it? He didn't tell you?"
"He couldn't help it," said Nick. "He stole my bath this morning, and when I arrived he was lying in it face downwards boiling himself in some filthy disinfectant that made the bathroom temporarily uninhabitable. Naturally I lodged a complaint, and finally got at the whole story. By the way, he said I wasn' to tell you; but I told him I probably should. That's only a detail, but I mention it in case you should be tempted to broach the subject to him. I shouldn't advise you to do so, as I think you will probably find him rather touchy about it."
"But, Nick!" Olga's eyes had begun to shine. "It was very--fine of him," she said. "I wish I'd known before I was so cross to him. I--I should have made allowances if I had known."
"Quite so," said Nick. "Well, you can begin now if you feel so inclined, though I suppose the young man did no more than his duty after all."
"Oh, Nick, a man isn't obliged to go so far as that!" she exclaimed reproachfully. "There are plenty who wouldn't."
"Doubtless," agreed Nick, looking faintly quizzical. "It was the action of a fool--but a brave fool. We'll grant him that much, shall we?"
She laughed a little, her cheek against his shoulder. "Don't poke fun at me! It isn't fair. You know he isn't a fool perfectly well."
"By Jove! You are getting magnanimous!" laughed Nick.
"No, I'm not. I'm only trying to be fair. One must be that," said Olga, whose honest soul abhorred injustice of any description.
"Oh, of course," said Nick. "You'll have to spoil him now to make up for having been so--'horrid,' I think, is the proper term, isn't it? It's the most comprehensive word in the woman's vocabulary, comprising everything from slightly disagreeable to damned offensive."
"Really, Nick!"
Nick grinned. "Pardon my unparliamentary language!"
"But Nick, I've never been--that!" protested Olga.
"A matter of opinion!" laughed Nick.
But Olga did not laugh, she only flushed a little and changed the subject.
About an hour later, Max, taking his hat from a peg in the hall, preparatory to departing for the cottage-hospital, discovered the lining thereof to be pulled away in order to accommodate a twisted scrap of paper which had been pinned to it in evident haste.
He carried the hat to the consulting-room and there detached and examined its contents. He smoothed out the crumpled morsel with his customary deliberation, drawing his shaggy red brows together over a few lines of minute writing which became visible as he did so.
"Dear Max," he read, "I'm sorry I've been a beast to
you lately. Please don't take any notice of this but
let us just be friends for the future. Yours,
"Olga."
There was no mockery in the green eyes as they deciphered the impulsive note, nor did the somewhat hard lips smile. Max stood for some seconds after reading it, staring fixedly at the paper, and when at length he looked up his face wore a guarded expression with which many of his patients were familiar. He took a pocket-book from an inner pocket and laid the crumpled scrap within it. Then, without more ado, he put on his hat and departed.
Olga was by that time spinning merrily along the road to Brethaven, having parted with Nick at the railway-station. Violet was seated beside her, and the old servant Mitchel sat sourly behind them. He had a rooted objection to the back-seat, and held the opinion that a woman at the wheel was out of place.
Olga, however, was not prepared to yield on this point at least. She had brought him against her will, and she meant to forget him if possible. But it was not long before Violet had extracted from her an account of the discussion that had resulted in Mitchel's unwilling presence. She was not very anxious to supply the information, but Violet was insistent and soon possessed herself of the full details of the argument which she seemed to find highly amusing.
"Oh, my dear, he's in love with me of course!" she said "I discovered that the first night I was with you. Hence his solicitude."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Olga.
"What! You haven't noticed it? My dear child, where are your eyes? Haven't you seen the way he watches me?"
Yes, Olga had seen it; but somehow she did not think it meant that. She said so rather hesitatingly.
"What else could it mean?" laughed Violet. "But you needn't be afraid, dear. I'm not going to have him. He's much too anatomical for me, too business-like and professional altogether. I'd sooner die than have him attend me."
"Would you?" said Olga. "But why? He's very clever."
"That's just it. He's too clever to have any imagination. He would be quite unscrupulous, quite merciless, and utterly without sympathy. Can't you picture him making you endure any amount of torture just to enable him to say he had cured you? Oh yes, he's diabolically clever, but he is cruel too. He would take the shortest cut, whatever it meant. He wouldn't care what agony he inflicted so long as he gained his end and made you live."
"I don't think he is quite so callous as that," Olga said, but even as she said it she wondered.
"You will if he ever has to doctor you," rejoined Violet. "I wonder what Mrs. Briggs thought of him. We'll find out to-day."
Mrs. Briggs was the daughter of the old woman who had died the preceding week at "The Ship Inn," whither they were bound that morning. She had nursed Violet in her infancy, and was a privileged acquaintance of both girls.
They found her busy pastry-making, for the business of the establishment had not been suspended during her recent troubles. She greeted them both hospitably, though not without a hint of reproach, which found expression in words when she had come to the end of a detailed account of the funeral.
"I thought you'd 'a' been round long ago," she said. "Your flowers was lovely, Miss Olga. You ought to 'a' seen 'em a-layin' on pore mother. I made sure as you'd want to. And you too, Miss Violet. I kept the coffin open till the very last minute, thinkin' as you'd come."
"That was very sweet of you, Mrs. Briggs," said Violet. "It was all Dr. Wyndham's fault that we didn't. I'm staying there, you know, and whatever he says is law. I'm sure I don't know why, but there it is."
"Well, there!" said Mrs. Briggs. "I might 'a' known. Pore mother was frit to death o' he. 'There's black magic in 'im' she says to me. It was the day as she was took, too. 'Black magic,' she says. 'I've a-begged 'im to let me die easy, but Lor' bless yer, 'e don't take no more notice than if 'e were the Spink,'" Mrs. Briggs glanced over her shoulder. "But there's one thing as you'll both be glad to know," she said, lowering her voice confidentially, "she died easy, pore soul, in spite of 'im. 'E don't know 'ow that was."
"What?" gasped both girls in a breath.
Mrs. Briggs went to the door, peered out, softly closed it. Her eyes shone craftily as she returned. She took up her rolling-pin, holding it impressively between her floury hands.
"Two days afore pore mother went," she began, with an air of gruesome mystery, "Dr. Wyndham, 'e came and examined 'er, and 'urt 'er cruel, 'e did. I thought 'e'd 'ave killed 'er afore 'e'd finished. Well, just afore 'e left, 'e come to me with a dark blue bottle, and 'e says: 'Look 'ere, Mrs. Briggs, she won't last out the week. She's quiet now,' 'e says, 'for I've given 'er a dose as'll last for some hours. But when that's exhausted,' 'e says, 'the pain'll come back. And so I'm goin' to give you this.' 'E 'olds it up to the light, and looks at it. 'It's good stuff,' 'e says. 'It's warranted to kill pain. But it ain't a thing to play with. You give 'er a teaspoon of it,' 'e says, 'but only if she's took with bad pain. But she mustn't 'ave more than one in twenty-four hours,' 'e says. 'You mind that. And if you 'ave to give it to 'er, you send at once for me. If you don't send,' 'e says, 'I won't be 'eld responsible for the consequences.' With that 'e goes, and pore mother she seemed to take a turn, and all that day and the next she seemed to drowse like and not take much notice o' things. The neighbours come in and look at 'er, but she didn't seem to know. We 'ad two quiet nights with 'er, and then all of a sudden in the middle of the afternoon she started screamin' and writhin.' Oh, lor, Miss Olga, you never see the like. It was just as if she were bein' tortured over a slow fire. Well, Briggs, 'e was fair unmanned by it. 'For 'eaven's sake,' 'e says, 'give 'er the medicine as the doctor left, and I'll go and tell 'im as you've done it.' And off 'e goes, though it was gettin' latish and no one to attend to the bar. Well, I fetched the medicine, and I took it to 'er, and I says, ''Ere you are, mother,' I says, 'you 'ave a dose o' this. It'll kill the pain.' I gave it 'er in a teaspoon like 'e said, and she took it. But there, it didn't make no more difference to 'er than if it 'ad been water.'" Mrs. Briggs heaved a sob, and picked up a corner of her apron to wipe her eyes. "I told 'er as I dursn't give 'er any more because of what the doctor 'ad said, and I said as 'ow Briggs 'ad gone for him, and 'e'd know 'ow to quiet 'er when 'e came. But the very thought of 'im seemed to drive 'er crazy. And then she said that about the black magic, and 'ow 'e'd never be persuaded to let 'er die easy. And then she says to me. 'But you didn't shake the bottle,' she says. 'I expect the stuff that kills the pain is all at the bottom.' And I thought there might be somethin' in it, so I fetched the bottle again and shook it up. And I thought I'd give 'er just 'alf a dose more in case she 'adn't 'ad enough. But just as I was a-goin' to pour it out there was such a rappin' down in the bar, that I 'ad to just give it 'er and run. I was back in under a minute, and there was pore mother a-sittin' up in bed and a-smilin' at me as if all 'er troubles was past, and says she, 'Annie,' she says, 'I've 'ad enough and I don't want no more,' she says; 'it's killed the pain.' And then she laid down in bed still smilin', and says she, 'You tell the doctor when 'e comes as I'm sorry to 'a' fetched 'im for nothin', but I couldn't wait--.' And--if you'll believe me, Miss Olga,--those was the last words she spoke." Again vigorously Mrs. Briggs dried her eyes. "She just dropped off to sleep as easy as easy, and I left 'er and went back to the bar. There was a stick by the bedside, and I knew I should 'ear 'er knock if she wanted me. But she didn't knock, and she didn't knock, and I kept thinkin' to myself what a nice sleep she was 'avin', and I wouldn't disturb 'er till the doctor came. And then all of a sudden, it came into my mind to wonder about that there medicine. And I just run up to see. And there I found 'er a-laying' dead, and _the stuff in the bottle were 'alf-gone!_"
Mrs. Briggs's information was imparted in a whisper and punctuated by sniffs. Her two listeners exchanged awe-stricken glances.
"How did you know she was dead?" asked Violet. "What did she look like?"
"My dear," said Mrs. Briggs, with solemn pride, "anyone as 'as seen death as often as I 'ave don't need to look twice."
Mrs. Briggs occupied the exalted position of layer-out in chief in Brethaven village, and right proud was she of her calling. It had been handed down from mother to daughter in her family for the past four generations. She literally swelled with importance as she resumed her narrative and her pastry-rolling at the same moment.
"Well, there she lay, pore dear, and I saw as the Lord 'ad took 'er right enough, and 'er troubles was well over. But there was this 'ere medicine-bottle, and I 'ad to think pretty quick about that; for just as I picked it up I 'eard the doctor's motor come round the corner. It came to me all in a minute, it did, and I upped with the water-jug and filled it to all but a spoonful of the top. For I knew what 'is first thought would be," said Mrs. Briggs grimly. "And I wasn't minded to let myself in for any questions. Yer see, my dear, 'e'd told me 'isself as the pore creature couldn't last the week. Well, I stuck the bottle on the shelf, and went to meet 'im. 'She's gone, sir,' I says. He come right past me without a word and stoops over the bed. And then, sure enough, quite sharp and sudden says 'e, 'You give 'er the pain-killer?' 'Just as you told me, sir,' I says, and with that I showed 'im the bottle. 'E took it into 'is 'and, and 'e give me a very straight look, and says 'e, frowning, 'Well, she'll never want any more of that.' And 'e just took it straight downstairs and emptied the bottle into the sink."
"He knew!" exclaimed Olga involuntarily.
"Lor' bless yer, no!" Mrs. Briggs's tone held unquestioning conviction. "'E was frownin' to 'isself all the time, and I could see as 'e was pretty mad that 'e'd come too late. I weren't sorry myself," she asserted boldly. "For I'd 'oped against 'ope after 'is last visit that 'e'd never see pore mother again alive. I couldn't 'a' stood it! There, I just couldn't."
Quite unexpectedly Mrs. Briggs suddenly broke down and dropped into a chair. Violet sprang to comfort, while Olga took possession of the rolling-pin and continued the pastry-making with deft hands.
After an interval poor Mrs. Briggs managed to recover somewhat of the hard demeanour that usually characterized her. "I've no call to fret," she said. "And don't you go rubbin' my dirty face with your clean 'andkerchief, Miss Violet. I ain't fit for you to touch, my dear."
"I'm only trying to get off the flour," explained Violet. "But I'm afraid you'll have to wash it after all. It's all gone into paste."
"And there's Miss Olga a-makin' my tarts for me like a ministerin' angel," said Mrs. Briggs, with a watery smile. "It's a pity you couldn't 'a' seen 'er in 'er coffin; for it was a beautiful coffin. Briggs said it was as fine a one as 'e'd seen. Well, well! She's gone, pore soul. And now you young ladies must try some of my rhubarb wine."
She rose briskly, and went to a cupboard. "We drank some of it at the funeral," she said. "And everyone liked it--even Briggs. But I thought I'd save the rest for when you came. Miss Olga always likes my rhubarb wine."
The rhubarb wine proved at least a welcome distraction, and under its genial influence Mrs. Briggs's spirits rose. She was quite cheery by the time her two visitors took their leave. They left her waving farewell from her doorstep, the patches of paste still upon her ruddy countenance, but with no other traces of her recent distress visible.
"Rum old thing!" said Violet. "I want to go round to the Priory and see Cork and Pluto next. I like to drop in unexpectedly when Bruce is away, and make sure that they are treated properly."
"We haven't much time," observed Olga.
"Oh, nonsense! Make time! We're not slaves," said Violet imperiously.
And Olga turned in the direction of the Priory without further words. It always took less time to yield to her friend's behests than to argue against them. _