Page:How I Met a Very Ignorant Practitioner.pdf/8

Rh Miss Inns had turned to me, her eyes brimming with tears. It made my blood boil to think that anyone, least of all a boor like Inns, should cause her such distress. Help her, indeed! I had a struggle not to fling myself at her feet and declare myself her devoted slave.

"Only tell me how, and I will do anything in the world!" I protested.

"Help us to meet him—that is all we ask," said she, smiling at my vehemence.

I thought a moment.

"I have agreed to stay here till the end of the week; now if I telegraph on Friday that I must positively leave the next day that will bring him back, and you will be certain to find him on Saturday afternoon. If anything should occur to prevent this I could telegraph to you, Mrs. Innes, if you will give me the address."

"I am afraid I haven’t got a card with me," said the elder lady after a hunt through her bag. "Will you write it down?"

I took out my pocket-book, when "I have one!" exclaimed Miss Innes.

The rest of the day I spent in striking futile matches in the endeavour to keep a pipe going. I suppose it looks foolish when set down in black and white, but it is a fact that I never took my eye from a white card, with "First and third Wednesdays" in one corner, which I had stuck up on the mantelpiece where I could see it. Yes, I was very far gone indeed.

Mindful of my promise, after finishing the rounds on Friday, I cycled on to Treacham to send Inns my ultimatum. Just as I got to the post-office I met the postman; he had a telegram for me, and was not at all sorry to be spared a four-mile tramp. Opening it, I read:—

"Please stop on; detained till next week. Has friend called again?"

"No, no, Dr. Inns," I thought. "I'm ready for you this time." And turning into the office I wired: "Quite impossible; must positively leave Saturday; friend has returned to London.—Wilkinson."

The possession of a certain small square of cardboard, carefully treasured in my pocket-book, enabled me to pack up the next morning in a less dismal frame of mind than I had been in a week before; and when Inns arrived after mid-day, I greeted him with a cheerfulness which he appeared disinclined to reciprocate. He seemed more uncouth than ever, and growled something about breaking off negotiations for the sale through having to come back so soon. In fact, he was in a very bad temper, and I suspected he had been drinking, for when during lunch I referred to the cases of Ikin and Warkwell, and hinted ever so gently at their real states, he lost entire control of himself, flew into a violent passion, and finally accused me of "trying to steal the practice from him!" This was rather more than I could stand, so keeping a tight hand on myself, I rose from the table, and telling him if he would be good enough to write me a cheque for the month's work I would leave at once, I went upstairs to finish packing. As I left the room he roared something after me that sounded like "Not a penny!" I cared little what he said, for I knew his sober reason would tell him that I had the whip-hand of him, and he dare not allow me to sue him for the money.

I had very little more packing to do, and was about to carry the portmanteau down, when I heard a knock, and then a voice which I recognised with a palpitating heart. In my resentment with the drunken brute downstairs I had actually forgotten his mother and sister, and now, as ill-luck would have it, they had arrived at the very worst time they could have chosen. Inns was scarcely fit for the society of men, let alone ladies. I bitterly reproached myself for managing him with so little tact; but regrets being useless, I stole downstairs at once, as I felt sure I should be wanted sooner or later. I could hear Inns growling in deeper and deeper bass, and just as I reached the door I heard the mother's voice.

"What have you done with him? You have murdered him!" she cried.

Something fell, and Miss Innes screamed for help. I rushed in, to find Inns clutching his mother by the throat; and seizing an overturned chair, the first thing handy, I dealt him a crack on the head that would have fractured any ordinary skull. He was not even stunned, however, but fell plump, like a sack of grain, into the corner, where he made no attempt to rise, but lay growling and cursing at large. When I turned round Mrs. Innes and her daughter, both looking very pale, were clasping each other at the farther end of the room.

"Who is this man?" Mrs. Innes demanded; and then as I stared at her, too bewildered to utter a word, "That is not my son!" she insisted.

At this moment there came a knock at the outer door, and a quick step approached