Doctor Jago dropped the corner of the handkerchief, returned across
the pool, was helped on to Kitty's back and cantered away, the
orderly after him.
In an hour's time, having put on a tourniquet and bandaged the hand,
he was back again by the pool. The baby was still there. He lifted
it and found a scrap of paper underneath. . . .
The doctor returned by devious ways to his home, a full hour before
he was expected. He rode in at the back gate, where to his secret
satisfaction he found no stable-boy. So he stabled Kitty himself,
and crept into his own house like a thief. Nor was it like his
habits to pay, as he did, a visit to the little cupboard (where the
brandy-bottle was kept) underneath the stairs, before entering the
drawing-room, with his face full of guilt and diplomacy.
"Gracious, John!" cried out Mrs. Jago, dropping her knitting.
"Is the review over already?"
"No, I don't think it is--at least, I don't know," stammered the
doctor.
"John, you have had another attack of that vertigo."
"Upon my honour I have not, Maria." The doctor was vehement; for the
vertigo necessitated brandy, and a visit to the little cupboard below
the stairs meant hideous detection.
So he sat up and tried to describe the review to his wife, and made
such an abject mess of it, that after twenty minutes she made up her
mind that he _must_ have a headache, and, leaving the room quietly,
went to the little cupboard below the stairs.
Pages:
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138