Part 40 (1/2)
”No, we haven't a thermometer, and do not know how to use one, anyway.”
”Well, I'll be out immediately,” was the brusque answer. ”I must see him to-night--don't exactly like the symptoms. I saw him in driving past your home the other day, and did not quite like his looks.”
Mostyn dragged himself up the stairs. Pa.s.sing Mitch.e.l.l's room, he half paused at the door. Should he wake him and explain the situation? He decided against it. The child's condition would only loosen the man's pent-up wrath in the presence of the physician and perhaps delay the examination. He went back to the nursery, and, lifting d.i.c.k in his arms, he bore him into his own room, which was cooler. He dampened a towel in ice-water, folded it, and laid it on the flushed brow.
”That feels nice, Daddy,” d.i.c.k smiled, grimly, ”but it hurts here,”
putting his hand gingerly on his side.
A few minutes later the doctor's car was heard on the drive. Mostyn descended to meet him. They shook hands formally, and Mostyn led him up the stairs to the patient. The doctor was past middle age, iron-gray, full-whiskered, and stockily built. He took the child's temperature, and looked grave as he glanced at the thermometer under the drop-light, and washed it in a gla.s.s of water.
”One-hundred and five!” he said, crisply. ”Big risks have been taken, Mostyn. I only hope my fears are groundless.”
”Your fears?”
But the doctor seemed not to hear. He raised the child's thin night-s.h.i.+rt and pa.s.sed his fingers gently over the abdomen.
”Tell me where that pain is, d.i.c.k,” he said, softly. ”Where does it hurt most when I press down?”
”There! there!” d.i.c.k cried out in sudden agony.
”I see. That will do. I sha'n't hurt you again.” He drew the s.h.i.+rt down and moved back toward the lamp.
”I'm sure you will give him--something to reduce that fever.” Mostyn knew that the remark was a mere tentative foil against the verdict stamped upon the bearded face. The doctor slowly wiped the tiny tube and restored it to its case.
”I must be frank,” he said, in a low tone. ”My opinion is that he must be operated on at once--without delay--early in the morning at the very latest.”
”Why--why--surely--” Mostyn began, but went no further. The objects in the room seemed to swim about him. He and the doctor were buoys floating face to face.
”It is appendicitis,” Loyd said. ”Of course, I'd call another doctor in consultation before anything is done, but I am sure I am not mistaken.”
Mostyn's soul stared from a dead face with all but glazed eyes. He nodded toward the door opening into the hall and led the doctor from the room. In the hall he put his hand on Loyd's shoulder.
”I am sure you know best,” he gasped. ”What do you propose?”
”That I take him at once to my sanitarium in my car. In warm weather like this you won't have to wrap him much. You'd better get him ready now. I'll telephone the nurse to have a room prepared.”
”Very well.” Mostyn was stalking back to the child when the doctor detained him.
”And his mother--I don't see her about; is she at home?”
”No, she is out of town. Just now she is away.”
”Well, you had better telegraph her.”
”I--I don't exactly know where she is.” Mostyn was vaguely thankful for the dimness of the hall light.
”You must find her--locate her at once.”
”Is it really so--so serious as that?”
”I may as well be frank.” The doctor cleared his throat. ”It won't do any good to mislead you. The little fellow has a weak heart, as I explained the last time he was ill, and it seems worse now. Then--then, I am sorry to say that I detect strong symptoms of peritonitis. If I could have seen him a week ago--I presume the fact of your wife being away, and you being busy at the bank--”