Part 54 (1/2)

The man's devotion to Dexter showed itself as the woman's devotion had shown itself--in the man's rough way. He threw down his spade with an oath.

”The Master taken bad?” he said. ”I'll fetch the doctor. I shall find him sooner than you will.”

”Tell the doctor to bring a man with him,” Benjamin added. ”He may want help.”

The gardener turned around sternly.

”_I'm_ the man,” he said. ”n.o.body shall help but me.”

He left us. I sat down on one of the chairs in the hall, and did my best to compose myself. Benjamin walked to and fro, deep in thought. ”Both of them fond of him,” I heard my old friend say to himself. ”Half monkey, half man--and both of them fond of him. _That_ beats me.”

The gardener returned with the doctor--a quiet, dark, resolute man.

Benjamin advanced to meet them. ”I have got the key,” he said. ”Shall I go upstairs with you?”

Without answering, the doctor drew Benjamin aside into a corner of the hall. The two talked together in low voices. At the end of it the doctor said, ”Give me the key. You can be of no use; you will only irritate her.”

With those words he beckoned to the gardener. He was about to lead the way up the stairs when I ventured to stop him.

”May I stay in the hall, sir?” I said. ”I am very anxious to hear how it ends.”

He looked at me for a moment before he replied.

”You had better go home, madam,” he said. ”Is the gardener acquainted with your address?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Very well. I will let you know how it ends by means of the gardener.

Take my advice. Go home.”

Benjamin placed my arm in his. I looked back, and saw the doctor and the gardener ascending the stairs together on their way to the locked-up room.

”Never mind the doctor,” I whispered. ”Let's wait in the garden.”

Benjamin would not hear of deceiving the doctor. ”I mean to take you home,” he said. I looked at him in amazement. My old friend, who was all meekness and submission so long as there was no emergency to try him, now showed the dormant reserve of manly spirit and decision in his nature as he had never (in my experience) shown it yet. He led me into the garden. We had kept our cab: it was waiting for us at the gate.

On our way home Benjamin produced his note-book.

”What's to be done, my dear, with the gibberish that I have written here?” he said.

”Have you written it all down?” I asked, in surprise.

”When I undertake a duty, I do it,” he answered. ”You never gave me the signal to leave off--you never moved your chair. I have written every word of it. What shall I do? Throw it out of the cab window?”

”Give it to me.”

”What are you going to do with it?”

”I don't know yet. I will ask Mr. Playmore.”

CHAPTER XLI. MR. PLAYMORE IN A NEW CHARACTER.