The Prodigal Father Part 6

It was a full two hours later that he returned home, footsore (for he had been walking in his pumps) and with a mind as far from calm as ever.

He a.s.sumed that everybody would be in bed, but no sooner had he shut the door than Jean appeared, flying downstairs to meet him.

"Oh," she cried, with a note of disappointment, "I hoped it was the doctor!"

"The doctor!" he exclaimed.

"Hus.h.!.+" she whispered, and came close up to him. "Father has suddenly been taken very ill."

At that moment Andrew also appeared, to see who had entered. He looked portentously grave.

"Well," he said, "what have I been saying? It's happened just exactly as anybody but a fool might have known it would--just precisely. He's no one to blame but himself for it--and his precious Mrs. Dunbar."

He rubbed his hands almost pleasantly.

"That quack's done for him--and his wine to-night finished the job.

Well, I warned him against both. People that will not take advice must bide the consequences. Are you going to stay up for Dr. Mackenzie, Jean?"

"Of course," she said.

"Well then, I might as well get off to my bed. If there's any immediate danger,"--his face grew very solemn,--"if the end's expected in the night, or anything like that, just knock on my door."

The junior partner bade them a grave good-night and retired; and such imaginative persons as are not satisfied with this bald record of facts, may picture him either as offering up a brief prayer for his father's happy recovery, or meditating upon the image of his betrothed--or both.

CHAPTER VI

Fortunately, it proved unnecessary to disturb the junior partner during the night, but next morning, when he had heard the doctor's report and personally visited the sick-bed, he took the most serious view of the situation. He summoned his two married sisters, urging them to lose no time; he spent only half an hour at the office; and then he sat down with his _Scotsman_ in the library (his Bible accessible in case of emergencies) to await the developments that he grieved to think were now practically inevitable. The doctor had paid a second visit and given the gloomiest report. Put in a nutsh.e.l.l, it came to this: that he could make neither head nor tail of his patient's symptoms, but that, as they were clearly the result of a course of treatment at the hands of an unqualified pract.i.tioner, it was improbable that Mr. Walkingshaw would recover from the consequences of his error.

In the afternoon he was told that his father would like to see him. He had finished the _Scotsman_ and begun a conversation with his betrothed in a gently facetious vein, but it took him not a moment to adjust his features to the rigidity of an urn, and save for the faint squeaking of his boots, he ascended the stairs with noiseless solemnity. He found Mr.

Walkingshaw propped up on pillows and breathing heavily. The demeanor of both was exactly becoming to the situation.

"Are you suffering much pain?" inquired the son in a hushed voice.

"It comes and goes," sighed the father. "It was just diabolical a few minutes ago; now it's a wee thing better, thanks."

"A kind of temporary relief," suggested the son.

"Possibly, possibly. I'd like to think it was going to last, though."

"I wish I could hold out hopes," said Andrew sympathetically.

Mr. Walkingshaw stirred suddenly.

"The doctor's not given me up yet, surely?" he exclaimed in a louder voice.

"Hush, hus.h.!.+ It'll only hurry things if you let yourself get excited."

"But, Andrew, my dear boy, tell me what he said to you."

The junior partner shook his head, kindly but resolutely.

"No, no; not yet awhile. So long as your mind remains clear, just keep composed; and then, when you feel any decided change, I'll hold nothing back from you, and we can get the rest of the family round the bedside.

You'll agree that's the best thing."

The orthodoxy of this programme ought, one would think, to have soothed the W.S. But it is strange what fancies sick men take.

"I don't agree at all," said Mr. Walkingshaw warmly. "In fact, I may tell you Cyrus warned me there might be kind of temporary complications."

He looked at his son for a moment and then added, with sudden decision--

"Andrew, I'd like to see Cyrus."

A grim smile dilated Andrew's cheeks.

"You'll have to catch him first. He's off."

"Off?"

"Bolted this morning as soon as he heard he'd done for you. I hear he owes a couple of hundred pounds in the town, one way and another. That's your Professor for you!"

Mr. Walkingshaw groaned. His son thought it well to improve the occasion, since he did not expect to have many more.

"Him and his radio-electricity! What was it he was going to do--renew the cells of the body?"

"Well, why shouldn't cells be renewed?" protested the invalid weakly.

"There will be," said his son facetiously. "He'll find himself in one again or I'm mistaken."

Mr. Walkingshaw lay silent for a few minutes. Then suddenly he groaned.

"Another of them coming on!" he muttered, and twisted his face away.

It was a few minutes more before he spoke again.

"I trust they'll catch the rascal! Andrew, my boy, can you not do anything to a.s.sist the police?"

It was impressive to see how adequately the junior partner handled each fresh development of the situation. At these last words he looked exceedingly grave.

"Had your thoughts not better be turning to other things?" he suggested.

The invalid's head started forward from the pillow.

"Will you have the kindness to mind your own--" he began; and then, in judgment, another spasm a.s.sailed him.

Andrew closed his eyes, drew down the corners of his mouth, and his lips moved silently but evidently piously. It was impossible to remain callous to such an elevating influence.