Part 24 (2/2)

'That is so. Not enough to take particular note of at the time, but in the light of what has happened since, I recall it to mind.'

'Now think,' he said presently, 'has he not, say since lunch, shown any symptom of light-headedness or anything of that sort?'

'Thank you for asking that, doctor,' I replied. 'You have reminded me of something which I had forgotten. It may mean nothing, but at a time like this one reflects upon the minutiae of life. We were walking through a field this afternoon, which was dotted with rough granite rocks. I fancy he must have hitched his foot in one of them; at any rate, he would have fallen heavily but for Captain Springfield, who just in the nick of time helped him up. But he showed no signs of light-headedness, not the slightest. We were all acting like a lot of children, and romped as though we were boys home from school. The happening seemed perfectly natural to me at the time, and but for your question I should not have mentioned it.'

'I am going to speak to you in an entirely unprofessional way, Captain Lus...o...b..,' said the doctor. 'I am not sure, and therefore I speak with hesitation. But it looks to me as though your friend had been poisoned. I don't know how it could have happened, because, as far as I can judge, you account for almost every minute of his time since this morning. But all his symptoms point in that direction.'

'May they not be the result of some slow-working malady which has been in his system for years?' I asked.

Dr. Merril shook his head. 'Hardly,' he replied; 'if the malady were slow-working, it would not have expressed itself so suddenly. In the case of a slow-working poison, too, his suffering would have been of a long drawn-out nature. This is altogether different. A few hours ago he was, according to your account, active, buoyant, strong. He was playing games with you in the fields, as though he were a boy.

Now,'--and the doctor looked significantly at the bed.

'Can you suggest nothing?' I asked again.

The doctor shook his head. 'It is just as well to be frank,' he replied. 'The thing is a mystery to me. His symptoms baffle me. He has drunk nothing but what you have told me of, he has eaten nothing except what has been consumed by the whole household. I don't know what to say.'

'And yet he'll die if nothing's done for him.'

'If symptoms mean anything, they mean that,' he replied. 'Something deadly is eating away at his vitals, and sapping the very foundations of his life. You see, he can tell us nothing; he is unconscious.'

'Is there no doctor for whom we could send, with whom you could confer?'

Again Dr. Merril shook his head. 'We are away from everything here,'

he replied; 'it is fifty miles to Plymouth over rough, hilly roads, and----'

'I have it!' I cried, for the word Plymouth set my mind working. I had spent some time there, and knew the town well.

'Yes, what is it?' asked the doctor eagerly.

'Do you happen to know Colonel McClure? He is chief of the St.

George's Military Hospital in Plymouth.'

'An Army doctor,' said Merril; 'no, I don't know him. I have heard of him. But how can he help? He has been most of his life in India. I imagine, too, that while he may be very good for amputations and wounds, he would have no experience in such cases as this. Of course I shall be glad to meet him, if you can get him here; but that seems impossible. No trains to Plymouth to-night, and to-morrow is Sunday.'

'May I ring for Sir Thomas?' I asked.

'By all means.' And a minute later not only Sir Thomas, but Lady Bolivick, again entered the room. Evidently the old gentleman was much moved. The thought of having a dying man in his house was like a nightmare to him.

'There's no getting to Plymouth to-night!' he cried.

'Haven't you got a motor-car here?'

'Yes, but no chauffeur. My car hasn't been used for weeks, as my man has been called up. That is why I am obliged to use horses for everything. You see, my coachman can't drive a car.'

'Didn't Springfield and Buller come in a car?' I asked.

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