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Updated: May 28, 2025
Undo my waistcoat, Sarson. Feel my heart, please. Feel carefully. I can see the end of your stethoscope in your pocket. Don't scamp it. I fancied this morning, when I was lying here alone, that there was something almost like a palpitation a quicker beat. Be very careful, Sarson. Now." The doctor made his examination with impassive face. Then he stepped back.
Both Meekins and Doctor Sarson, however, were intent upon the task of steering Mr. Fentolin's little carriage down below. They placed the wheels in the two grooves, and Meekins secured the carriage with a rope which he let run through his fingers.
Hamel asked incredulously. "He is going," Mr. Fentolin admitted. "I wash my hands of the man. He has given us an infinite amount of trouble, has monopolised Doctor Sarson when he ought to have been attending upon me a little more hot milk, if you please, Esther and now, although he really is not fit to leave his room, he insists upon hurrying off to keep an appointment somewhere on the Continent.
An expression of satisfaction crept over his face. "You reassure me, my dear Sarson. That is excellent. What of our patient?" "There is no change." "I am afraid," Mr. Fentolin sighed, "that we shall have trouble with him. These strong people always give trouble." "It will be just the same in the long run," the doctor remarked, shrugging his shoulders. Mr. Fentolin held up his finger. "Listen!
"But what can you do?" she demanded, her voice shaking with fear. "Meekins will come with him, and Doctor Sarson, unless he is here already. What can you do against them? Meekins can break any ordinary man's back, and Mr. Fentolin will have a revolver." Hamel threw another log on to the fire and drew her chair closer to it. "Never mind about," he declared cheerfully. "Mr.
"It was a most distressing cry," he observed doubtfully, "a cry of fear as well as of pain." "Poor fellow!" Mr. Fentolin remarked compassionately. "I am afraid that for a moment or two he must have suffered acutely. Doctor Sarson is very clever, however, and there is no doubt that what he did was for the best. His opinion is that by to-morrow morning there will be a marvellous change.
It is very important, Meekins, for you as well as for us, that you succeed." The man turned doggedly back to his task. The eyes of the three men watched him Mr. Dunster on the bed; Doctor Sarson, pale and gloomy, with something of fear in his dark eyes; and Mr. Fentolin himself, whose expression seemed to be one of purely benevolent and encouraging interest.
The little operation we spoke of last night was successful, as Doctor Sarson prophesied, and Mr. Dunster was quite conscious and able to sit up early this morning. We telephoned at six o'clock to Norwich for a surgeon, who is now on his way over here, but he will not wait even to see him. What can you do with a man so obstinate!" Neither Hamel nor Gerald had resumed their places.
Fentolin was sitting before the open window, an easel in front of him, a palette in his left hand, painting with deft, swift touches. "Ah!" he exclaimed, without looking around, "it is my friend the doctor, my friend Sarson, M.D. of London, L.R.C.P. and all the rest of it. He brings with him the odour of the sick room. For a moment or two, just for a moment, dear friend, do not disturb me.
Fentolin, on leaving the dining-room, steered his chair with great precision through the open, wrought-iron doors of a small lift at the further end of the hall, which Doctor Sarson, who stepped in with him, promptly directed to the second floor. Here they made their way to the room in which Mr. Dunster was lying. Doctor Sarson opened the door and looked in.
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