Chapter 49
I knew there was a doctor's two streets off, and I ran to where the red bull's-eye in the lamp shone out like a danger signal; rang the night-bell; heard a window above me open, and, after explaining my business and what was the matter, the medical man promised to come.
I ran back to find that Revitts had not moved, but that my attempts to bandage his wounds had proved to be ineffectual. I did what more I could, though, and then sat horror-stricken and silent, holding the poor fellow's hand, speaking to him at intervals, but eliciting nothing but a moan.
It seemed as if the doctor would never come, and I was about to rouse up some of the people in the house when I heard the bell, and ran to admit him.
He looked curiously at me as I stood there, candle in hand, and as I closed the door he said gruffly:
"A drunken fall, I suppose?"
"Oh no, sir," I said hastily. "Mr Revitts never drinks."
"Humph?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed; and I led him up to where Revitts sat.
"Policeman, eh?" said the doctor; "this is a job for the surgeon to the division, my man. Mustn't leave him to bleed to death, though."
He slipped off his coat, and, exerting his strength, lifted poor Revitts on to the bed, after which he removed my bandages and made an examination.
"Hold the candle nearer, boy, nearer still. That's right. You won't singe his hair. If you do it won't matter, for I must clip it off short. Humph! some one has given him a pretty topper with a thick stick, and he must have fallen with his head on the edge of a step.
Terrible cuts?"
"But will they kill him, sir?" I faltered, feeling quite sick at the sight of the wounds.
"We won't let them, my man. Come, hold up, you mustn't, let that turn you faint."
"I--I won't, sir," I said.
"That's right, my man. Nothing like a little will and determination.
We men must leave fainting to the girls. That's right; basin and sponge and towel. We'll soon put him straight. Now that case out of my pocket. That's well. Hold the candle nearer. No snuffers? Well, use your fingers. Dirty trick, but handy--fingery, I ought to say."
He kept on talking--half-playfully, while with his bright scissors he clipped the hair away close from Revitts' forehead, and then, cutting up some plaister in strips, he rapidly bandaged the cuts, after bringing the
"Poor fellow! he has got a sad knocking about," the doctor said kindly, for now the annoyance at being called out of bed was over he was deeply interested in his case. "I wonder some of his fellow-constables did not take him to the hospital. Where did you find him?"
I told him how I was astonished by finding Revitts at my bedside.
"Ah yes, I see," he said. "Hurt and half-insensible, and nature intervenes. Education says, Take him to the hospital; instinct bids him, animal-like, creep to his hole to die."
"To die, sir?" I cried, catching his hand.
"Die? No: nonsense, boy. I was only speaking metaphorically. Don't you see?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"No, you don't, you young humbug," he retorted sharply. "You don't know what a metaphor is."
"Yes, sir, it's a figure of speech in which one idea is used instead of another."
"Hallo!" he said; "why, how do you get your living?"
"I'm a reading-boy at a printer's, sir."
"Oh! Are you? I should have thought you were reading-boy to a professor of language. Well, we mustn't forget our patient. Give me a gla.s.s, boy."
"Will a teacup do, sir?"
"Oh yes, and a teaspoon. That's right," he said; and, emptying a little phial into the cup, he proceeded to give poor Revitts some of the stimulus it contained.
"There," he said, "he's coming round, poor fellow; but I daresay he'll be a bit shaky in the head. He mustn't get up; and you must give notice at his station as soon as it's light, or to the first policeman you see."
"But you don't think he'll die, sir?"
"Die, my man? No. A great stout fellow like that is not likely to die from a crack or two on the head."
I drew a long breath of relief, and soon after the doctor left, bidding me not be alarmed if I found his patient slightly delirious.
It was no pleasant task, sitting there alone, watching by my poor friend, and many times over I felt so alarmed at his condition that I rose to go and rouse up some of the people of the house; but whenever I reached the door the doctor's rea.s.suring words came back, and, feeling that he must know what was right, I sat by the bedside, holding Revitts'
hand till towards morning, when he began to move uneasily and to mutter and throw about his arms, ending by seeming to wake from a troubled sleep.
"Where am I?" he said sharply.
"Here at home, in bed," I said.
"Who's that?"
"It is I, Bill, don't you know me?"
"Yes, yes, I know you!" he said. "Oh, my head, my head!"
"What was it? How was it done?" I said.
There was a pause, and then, in a weary way:
"I don't know--I can't recollect. Everything's going round. Yes, I know: I heard a little girl call out for help, and I saw a fellow dragging her towards an open door, and I went at him."
"Yes, Bill. Well?"
"That's all. I don't know anything else. Oh, my head, my head!"
"But did he hit you?" I asked.
"Yes, I think so, and I went down," he groaned; "and I don't know any-- any more, but I should know that fellow out of a thousand, and--"
He began muttering to himself, and as I bent over him I fancied I made out the word "staff," but all else was unintelligible, and the poor fellow sank into a heavy sleep which seemed likely to last.
Soon after seven I got the landlady to come and sit with him while I ran to the police-station, and told the inspector on duty about Revitts'
state.
"There," he exclaimed to another officer, "I told you so. He's too steady a fellow to have gone wrong. All right, my man, I'll send on the surgeon, and we'll see what's to be done. You don't know how it was?"