CHAPTER XVIII.
DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.
They went out together to ascertain who it was, and the man repeatedhis question, and observed that it was very dark there.
"I'll get a light, sir," said Mrs. Death in an agitated tone. "I hopeyou haven't brought me bad news."
"No," the man answered, "good news I trust you will find it. I havecome to attend to your little girl, who, I hear, has a bad attack ofbronchitis."
"Are you a doctor, sir?" she asked.
"Yes, I am a doctor," he answered. "Dr. Vinsen."
"It's very good of you, sir, and Gracie is suffering awfully, but I amafraid there is some mistake. I didn't send for you."
"Now why did you not send for me," he said, in a tone of gentlebanter. "In the first place, because you don't know where I live.In the second place, because you can't afford to pay me; but thatwill not matter. Why should it? Dear, dear, dear! What is money?Dross--nothing more. Never mind the light; I can see very well--verywell."
They were now in the room where the children were, who, sitting up inbed, stared open-mouthed at the gentleman with his glossy silk hat andhis yellow kid gloves, and his double gold watchchain hanging acrosshis waistcoat. He was a portly gentleman, and when he took off his hathe exhibited a bald head, with a yellow fringe of hair round it, likea halo. His face was fleshy and of mild expression, his eyes rathersmall and sleepy, and there was, in those features and in his generalappearance, an air of benevolent prosperity.
"Pictures," he said, looking at the coloured drawings on the table."Most interesting. And the artist?"
"My little girl, sir," said Mrs. Death, looking anxiously at him; "shedoes it to amuse the children."
"Remarkably clever," he said. "_Re_-markably clever. Dear, dear, dear!A budding genius--quite a bud-ding ge-nius. But time presses. Allow meto explain."
"Won't you take a chair, sir?" said Mrs. Death, wiping one with herapron, and placing it for him.
"Thank you. The explanation is as follows--as follows. A friend ofmine reading in the evening papers an account of your application atthe Bishop Street Police Court this morning--pray accept my sympathy,my dear madam, my sym-pathy--and of the evident illness of the littlegirl who accompanied you, has asked me to call and see if I can doanything for you--anything for you." His habit of repeating his words,and of occasionally splitting them into accented syllables, seemed tofit in with his gentle voice and his generally benevolent air.
"May I inquire the name of your kind friend?" asked Mrs. Death.
"Certainly--cer-tainly," replied Dr. Vinsen. "It is Dr. Pye, of ShoreStreet."
"The scientist," said Dick.
"The scientist," said Dr. Vinsen. "A man of science and a man ofheart. The two things are not incompatible--not incom-patible. Heasked me also to ascertain whether you have heard anything of yourhusband."
"I have heard nothing of him, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a sob in herthroat.
"Sad, sad, sad! But have hope, my dear madam. There is a specialprovidence in the fall of a sparrow, and you may depend upon it thatthis special providence is watching over you, and will bring yourhusband back--your husband back." He turned to Dick. "Related to thefamily, I presume?"
"No," said Dick, "I am here simply as a friend, to assist Mrs. Deathin her search for her husband."
"A very worthy endeavour. Would it be considered impertinent if Iinquired the name of the gentleman who evinces so deep an interest inthis very distressing matter?"
"My name is Dick Remington. I've grown so accustomed to Dick that Ishould hardly know myself as Richard."
Dr. Vinsen's eyes gave faint indications of amusement--eyes so sleepycould do no more than that--and he passed his hands over and over eachother, as though, like Miss Kilmansegg's father, he was washing themwith invisible soap in imperceptible water. At this point Gracie, whohad been trying with all her might and main to hold herself in, burstinto a furious fit of coughing. "Dear, dear, dear!" said Dr. Vinsen."Let us see what we can do for you, my child."
Taking a stethoscope out of his hat he proceeded to make anexamination of Gracie's lungs and chest, a proceeding which Gracieviewed with indifference and the other children with awe. In thecourse of his examination he made such comments, under his breath,as--
"Dear, dear, dear! Nothing but skin and bone--but skin _and_ bone!Sad, very sad! Neglected another week the result would have been--butI will not distress you. Wrap yourself up, child. My dear madam, youmust keep little Gracie--sweet name--in bed for a few days. Doubtlessyou have a bronchitis kettle."
"No, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a forlorn look.
"Don't you worry, mother," protested Gracie. "I don't want anykettles. What's the use of kettles? _I'm_ all right, I am."
"No, my dear child," said Dr. Vinsen, "allow _me_ to know. You musthave a linseed poultice on--your mother will see to it--and when Icome again I will bring you some medicine. Permit me, Mrs. Death--afew words in private--a corner of the room will do."
They withdrew into a corner, and Dick heard the chink of coin.
"I will call to-morrow," said Dr. Vinsen, the private conferenceended, "to see how we are getting on--how we are get-ting on. Nay, mydear madam--tears!--summon your fortitude, your strength of mind--butstill, a gratifying tribute--a gra-ti-fy-ing tri-bute." Hat in hand,he shook hands with all in the room, a ceremony attended byconsiderable difficulty in consequence of the shyness of the children,but he would not let them off. "Dear, dear, dear! One, two, three,four, five, six, and our little Gracie makes seven--really, my dearmadam, really! Good evening, Mr.--Mr.--dear me, my memory!"
"Dick Remington," said Dick.
"To be sure. Mr. Dick Remington. Good evening." Mrs. Death, candle inhand, waited to light him down. "So kind of you, but the passages_are_ rather dark." Those left in the darkened room heard his voicedying away in the words, "_Are_ ra-ther dark."
When Mrs. Death re-entered the room, her face was flushed. BeckoningDick aside she said in an excited tone, "He has given me twosovereigns. God bless him! It is like a light shining upon me. If onlyI could find my husband! Children, be good, and you shall havesomething nice for supper."
"I'll run and get the linseed for you," said Dick, "while you putGracie to bed."
He was soon back, and Mrs. Death met him in the passage.
"I can manage now, sir, thank you," she said, "but Gracie wants to wishyou good night."
Gracie coming to the door with an old blanket round her, he bent downand put his lips to her white face.
"_That's_ what I wanted," she whispered, and kissed him. "You're agood sort, you are." He slipped a paper bag into her hand. "What'sthis for?"
"Brandy balls for the young 'uns," he answered, and scudded away.
"Oh, you _are_ a one!" she shouted hoarsely.
"God bless you, Gracie!" he shouted back.
"That's a windfall for Mrs. Death," he muttered when he was clear ofDraper's Mews, "and may be the saving of Gracie. Dear little mite!Almost a skeleton, and the heart of a lion. Learn a lesson from her,Dick, and meet your own troubles like a man, and do your work, my lad,like one. It's brutal to be ungrateful, but still
"I do not like thee, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell, But this I know, and know full well, I do not like thee, Dr. Fell."
Now, who could Dick have been referring to as he repeated these lineswith a thoughtful face? Certainly not to Dr. Fell. He was notacquainted with that gentleman.
Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery Page 19