Chapter 23. The Man Is Mad

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_ CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. THE MAN IS MAD

Stratton rose slowly, and he was evidently confused and not quite able to grasp all that had been going on, till a pang from his injured shoulder spurred his brain.

His right-hand went up to the bandage, and he began hastily to arrange his dress.

He was evidently sick and faint, but to restore his garments was for the moment the dominant idea.

Then another thought came, and he looked wildly round, hardly appearing to grasp the fact that friend and visitors had drawn back from him, while the former slowly uncocked the revolver and carefully extracted the cartridges, noting that four were filled, and two empty.

Guest knew the billet of one of the bullets, and he involuntarily looked round for the other.

He had not far to seek. The shade covering the wired and mounted bones of an ancient extinct bird standing on a cabinet was shattered, and the bullet had cut through the neck vertebrae, and then buried itself in the oaken panelling.

Guest lowered his eyes to his task again, and slowly placed the cartridges in one pocket, the pistol in the other, when, raising his eyes, he met the admiral's shadowed by the heavy brows; and the old officer gave him a nod of approval.

"Well, Rebecca," he said, in a deep voice which seemed to hold the dying mutterings of the storm which had raged in his breast but a short time before; "we may go. I can't jump on a fallen man."

"Yes," said Miss Jerrold, with a look of sadness and sympathy at Stratton, who stood supporting himself against the table; "we had better go. O Malcolm Stratton," she cried passionately, "and I did so believe in you."

He raised his face, with a momentary flush of pleasure bringing back something of its former aspect. But the gloom of despair came down like a cloud over a gleam of sunshine, and his chin fell upon his chest, though a movement now and then told that he was listening bitterly to every word.

"Yes," said Sir Mark; "it's as well you did not get in the police. Keep it all quiet for everyone's sake. The doctor must know, though."

Stratton's face was a little raised at this, and he turned slightly as Guest said:

"Of course. It is not a dangerous wound, but look at him."

Stratton's chin fell again upon his breast.

"In a few hours," continued the admiral, "fever will probably set in."

A low, catching breath shook Stratton, and one hand grasped the table edge violently.

"And he will be delirious."

Stratton strove hard to contain himself, but he started violently, and raising his face he passed his right-hand across his dripping brow.

"I cannot stop here, Guest," said Sir Mark. "Come, Rebecca, my dear. You must not leave him alone. Shall I send in a medical man?"

"No!" cried Stratton hoarsely, in so fierce a voice that all started, and the admiral shrugged his shoulders, and drawing himself up crossed to the door, his sister following him with her face full of perplexity and commiseration.

But she turned as she reached the door, hesitated for a moment, and the rigid hardness in her face, with its anger against the man who had done her niece so cruel a wrong, died away to give place to a gentle, womanly look of sorrow and reproach as she hurried back to where Stratton stood with his back to the table, grasping its edge, while the objects thereon trembled and tottered from the motion communicated by the man's quivering muscles.

"Heaven forgive you, Malcolm Stratton!" she said slowly. "I cannot now. I am going back to her. Man, you have broken the heart of as true and sweet a woman as ever lived."

Stratton did not stir, but stood there bent, and as if crushed, listening to the rustle of his visitor's rich silk, as she hurried back to her brother; then the door was opened, closed upon them, and a dead silence reigned in Stratton's study, as he and Guest stood listening to the faint sound of the descending steps till they had completely died away.

Then Guest turned to his friend:

"Now," he said coldly, "give me your arm. No; stop. Where are your keys?"

Stratton raised his head sharply.

"Where are your keys?"

"What for?"

"I want to get the spirits to give you a dram."

"No, no," said Stratton firmly. "Now go!"

"Of course," said Guest bitterly. "That's my way when you're in trouble. You miserable fool! You madman!" he roared, flashing out suddenly with passion. "What is it? Two years ago, when I came here and found you with that cyanide bottle on the table, and the glass ready with its draught, I stopped you then, you coward. This time you were alone to attempt your wretched work."

Stratton glared at him wildly.

"And here have we all been scared to death, fearing that you had been attacked. The admiral said you were a miserable coward, and you are. Where is your manhood? Where is your honour, to carry on like this with poor Myra till the last moment, and then do this? Hang it, man, why didn't you aim straight and end it, instead of bringing us to such a pitiful scene as this?"

Stratton drew his breath hard.

"There, I've done. It's jumping, as he said, on a fallen man. But I was obliged to speak. Now, then, those keys."

"Go!" cried Stratton sternly. "Go. Leave me!"

"To play some other mad prank? Not I. I want those keys to get out the brandy."

"I tell you no--no."

"Very well. It was to save you from fainting. Faint then, and be hanged. Give me your arm."

"Will you go?" cried Stratton fiercely.

"Yes, when you are on your bed, and then only to the door to call someone--"

"What?"

"To fetch the nearest doctor. Come along."

"Percy Guest--" began Stratton fiercely.

"It's of no use," said Guest. "Only waste of words. Come along."

Stratton made a quick movement to avoid him, and staggered into a chair; when his eyes closed, and he lay back fainting.

"Poor wretch!" muttered Guest, snatching the basin and sponge to begin bathing the already damp face. "I oughtn't to have bullied him."

In a few moments Stratton opened his eyes again, and his first look was directed round the room.

"It's all right, old chap," said Guest. "Temper's gone. Come, be sensible. I won't say disagreeable things to you. Give up the keys. You'd be better for a drop of brandy."

"No," said Stratton hastily. "Go and leave me now."

"Impossible. You must have the doctor."

"I cannot; I will not."

"But you must."

"Do you hear what I say?" cried Stratton fiercely.

"Yes. There is no occasion to fly out at me for wanting to be of service."

"I want no help. I must be alone."

"To go wandering off into a fit of delirium. There, I'll call old mother Brade to fetch a surgeon."

"You will not do so. I forbid it."

"Exactly, but you are a patient now. There, don't be idiotic. I can read you like a book."

Stratton looked up at him sharply.

"You don't want the doctor to see your wound and know how it came-- there, don't stare in that wild way--leave it to me. It was an accident. You were fooling about with a revolver. Cleaning it, say; and it went off. That's all the doctor need know."

"No one must know even that."

"But your wound must be properly dressed."

"I will not have it touched," cried Stratton decisively. "Now, once more. I am not much hurt. Go."

Guest laughed bitterly.

"No, my boy, you don't get rid of me. I'll stick to you like your conscience."

Stratton's eyes dilated.

"And I'm going to be master here till you are well bodily and mentally."

"I tell you I am not much hurt. Mentally! Pooh, I'm as well as you are."

"Better, of course. Why, what nonsense you are talking!" cried Guest, pointing to the other's wounded shoulder. "Come, don't let us argue more. Give in sensibly, there's a good fellow, and let me do my best for you. I know you see things in a wrong light now, but you'll thank me some day."

They watched each other furtively, and Guest could see how hard his friend was evidently planning to get rid of him, while, on his own part, he was calculating his chances. He knew that mad people were superhumanly strong, but then in spite of his conduct he could not in his own mind grant that Stratton was mad. It was a case of what coroners call "temporary insanity," due to some trouble which had been kept hidden; and if there should be a struggle, Guest felt that he would be more than a match for his friend, injured as he was.

Stratton was the first to speak, in a low voice, which suggested his being faint and in great pain.

"Now I'm better. Will you go and leave me?"

Guest took a chair, and placing its back opposite to his friend, strode across it, and rested his arms on the rail.

"Look here, Stratton, old fellow; I've always trusted you, and you've always trusted me."

"Yes, of course," said Stratton hurriedly.

"Well, then, as your old chum--the man who has stuck to you and is going to stick to you all through this hobble into which you have got yourself--don't you think it would be as well to make a clean breast of it--to me?"

Stratton's eyes dilated as he spoke, and his look was so strange that Guest involuntarily prepared himself for some outbreak.

"You can trust me," continued Guest, and he saw a look of despair come into his friend's countenance. "Come, old chap, what's the use of a friend if he is not to help you? You know I want to."

Stratton's lips parted in an almost inaudible, "Yes."

"Well, then, for poor Myra's sake."

Stratton started as if he had been stung.

"I can't help hurting you, and I repeat--for her sake. She is a woman. She loves you."

"For pity's sake, don't, don't," groaned Stratton in a voice full of unutterable anguish.

"She loves you, I say," continued Guest firmly; "and, whatever has been the cause of this madness, she will forgive you."

Stratton shook his head slowly.

"But I say she will. Come, we are none of us perfect. I tell you I am fighting for you now as well as myself. Your act this morning injures Edie and me too. So take it like this, old fellow. You have done wrong in some way; is not an attempt to make amends the first step toward showing repentance?"

"You don't know--you don't know," groaned the wretched man.

"Not yet; you will not be open. Come now, be frank with me. In your utter despair, consequent upon your nerves being weak with mental worry, you used that pistol."

Stratton buried his face in his hands.

"The old man was right," continued Guest; "it was a cowardly way to get out of the difficulty. Let me help you. Come, once more, make a clean breast of it."

Stratton's hands fell again, and there was an eager look in his face; his lips parted and he was about to speak, but the look faded away and in a despondent, weary way he sank back once more.

"Very well. I will not press you now," said Guest. "You'll think better of it, old fellow. I'll wait. Now, then, let me help you into your room."

"What for?" cried Stratton suspiciously.

"Because a wounded man must be better lying down."

"So that you can lock me in and go for people--for doctors?"

"He is queer," thought Guest. "The cunning of a man off his head."

As he thought this he rose, walked to the bedroom door, opened it, and took the key out to hand to his friend.

"There, are you satisfied? Look here, Mal, even to better you I will not play any treacherous trick like that?"

"I believe you," said Stratton quietly; and he waved away the hand holding the key.

"So far, so good, then. Will you come and lie down while I fetch a doctor?"

"No. I will not have a doctor. It is a mere scratch."

"Very well. Come and sit down, then."

Stratton shook his head.

"Invalids must be humoured, I suppose. Sit where you are then, and try and have a nap. You'll be calmer afterward--I hope," he added to himself.

Guest changed the position of his chair, took up a book, and crossed to a lounge, but as he was in the act of turning it he saw that Stratton was watching him keenly.

"Don't do that. I want you to leave me now."

"I know you do," said Guest quietly; "but I am not going."

Stratton drew a heavy, catching breath, and lay back in his chair, while Guest opened the book he had taken at random, and read from it half a dozen romances which he made up as he went on. For he could not see a word of the printed matter, and in each of these romances his friend was the hero, who was being hunted to desperation by some woman with whom he had become entangled.

From time to time he glanced across at his friend as the hours glided by, hoping to see that he slept; but he always caught a glimpse of a pair of eager eyes watching him.

At last, about six o'clock, faint, weary, and oppressed by the terrible silence in the room, Guest laid down the book.

"Going?" said Stratton eagerly.

"No. Only to send for Mrs Brade."

"What for?"

"To get her to run to the Peacock, and tell them to bring some dinner and a bottle of Bass. You can eat something?"

"Bring dinner--here?" gasped Stratton.

"Yes. I have had nothing since early breakfast."

"You cannot have it here," said Stratton, making an effort, and speaking firmly. "I am better and calmer now. After a night's rest I shall be myself again."

"I hope so," said Guest quietly.

"So go now, there's a good fellow. I'll explain everything to you some day, and I shall be far better alone."

"Yes; you are fit to trust!"

"You need not sneer. You think I shall make some insane attempt upon my life."

Guest looked at him fixedly.

"Yes; you have good reason for doubting me, but I swear to you that you may trust me."

At that moment steps were heard upon the stairs, almost inaudible; but whoever it was whistled some melody, and before Stratton could stay him, Guest threw open the door, and called to the whistler to come back.

"Want me, sir?" said a telegraph boy, appearing in the opening.

"Yes," said Guest, giving the boy sixpence; "ask the woman at the lodge to come up here directly."

"All right, sir."

Guest returned to his seat, and saw that Stratton's face was averted and his eyes closed.

"Finds he must give way," said the young barrister to himself; and once more there was silence, till Mrs Brade's knock was heard.

Guest admitted her, and cut short a string of wondering exclamations by giving her his orders.

"Oh, certainly, sir," she cried; "but I thought--"

"Yes, of course you did, my dear madam, but unfortunately Mr Stratton was suddenly taken ill."

"Oh, poor dear!" cried Mrs Brade, in deep concern. "Let me go and ask my doctor to--"

"No," cried Stratton so fiercely that the woman started and turned pale.

"Go and do as I said," whispered Guest; and after a while the refreshments were brought, partaken of, and, in spite of his friend's protests, Guest insisted upon passing the night in an easy-chair, dropping off to sleep occasionally, to dream that Stratton was threatening to destroy his life, and waking to find him in his easy-chair thrust back to the side of the fireplace between him and the panelled door. _

Read next: Chapter 24. Two Nights Of Watching

Read previous: Chapter 22. At The Silent Dock

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