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The Queen's Scarlet, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 5. Right Forward |
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_ CHAPTER FIVE. RIGHT FORWARD The dreamy sensation of unreality passed away for the moment, and Richard Frayne flung himself upon his knees beside his cousin, to raise his head, after hurriedly taking out and folding a handkerchief to form a bandage; while, after eagerly watching him for a few moments, one of the two pupils turned and dashed off as hard as he could run in the direction of the town. But the bandage was too short; and, after looking wildly up at his companion, Richard tore off his necktie, made a pad of the handkerchief, and bound it firmly to the back of his cousin's head, conscious, as he did so, of the fact that the bone was dented in by its contact with the stone. "Go for help!" cried Richard, huskily. "No, no; I can't leave you now," said the other, who stood there, white and trembling. "Andrews has gone for a doctor. Somebody else is sure to come. Oh, Frayne! what have you done?" The lad looked up at him wildly, but he could not speak. The strange sensation of everything being unreal came over him again, and, in a dreamy way, he saw the coming of his aunt and uncle to ask him the same question; while Mark was lying, pale and cold, lifeless in his room. There was the rushing, murmuring sound of the river from close at hand, and the deep tones of the great Cathedral bell striking the hour; but to Richard's excited imagination it was tolling for his cousin's death, and thought succeeded thought now in horrible sequence. He had in his passion killed Mark Frayne. It was in fair fight; but would people believe all this? They had quarrelled, and about that money trouble. Would people believe his version, or take the side of the dead? Then a black cloud of misery and despair seemed to close him in, and he knelt there as it stunned--unable to think, unable to move. He could only gaze down at the pale, rigid features before him, drawing back involuntarily at last as he awoke to the fact that his companion had been down to the river to fill his hat with water, with which he began to bathe Mark Frayne's face. Then came a buzz of voices as boys and men approached. Two or three people began at once to ask questions, which Richard Frayne could not answer, while his companion's replies were confused and wild. "Yes, he's dead enough," said someone, coarsely, and the words seemed to echo through Richard's brain. Then there was hurried talk about carrying him back to the town, calls for a gate or a shutter, and the little crowd constantly on the increase, till the pressure grew suffocating. At last someone shouted-- "Here he is!" and Richard was conscious of a tall figure in black forcing its way through the crowd, scolding and ordering the people to keep back. "How did this happen?" someone said, sharply; and Richard gazed up at the speaker, but made no reply, only stared with dilated eyes as a rapid examination was made and the rough bandage replaced. Then, in a dreamy way, Richard Frayne saw that his cousin was lifted on to a gate, and a ragged kind of procession was formed, as the men who had raised the bars on to their shoulders stepped off together under the doctor's direction; while he seemed to be, as the nearest relative, playing the part of chief mourner. That march back appeared endless. People joined in, others stood in front of house and shop; and the buzzing of voices increased till, panting and flurried, the great heavy figure of Mr Draycott was seen approaching without his hat. "Much hurt?" "Can't say yet, for certain," rang ominously in Richard's ears. "Fear the worst! I want Mr Shrubsole to be fetched!" "I'll go, sir; I'll go!" came from a couple of boys; and then Richard felt Mr Draycott's heavy hand upon his shoulder as they still went on. "A terrible business, Frayne; a terrible business!" he said; and for the rest of the distance to the gate of the carriage drive these words kept on repeating themselves to the beat of feet and the buzz and angry excitement, as one of the policemen who had hurried up refused to let the crowd follow to the hall-door. Then, still in the dreamy, confused way as of one half-stunned, Richard Frayne paced up and down the dining-room, hearing from time to time what was going on, for he had been sent out of his cousin's room by the doctor. Here he was conscious of the fact that his fellow-pupils all kept aloof, grouping together and talking in low tones. They were discussing the affray, he knew, and a word here and there told him that the causes of the encounter were well to the fore. Twice over he heard something which made him draw near, but his approach was followed by a dead silence, and the blood flushed to his temples; but that was no time for angry remonstrance, and he shrank away. "They don't know!" he muttered, as he resumed his weary walk up and down till Andrews, who acted the part of scout, entered the room to communicate what he had gathered on the stairs. Richard went to him, but the lad avoided his eyes and turned to his companions, to whom he whispered a few words, and then went out again to get more news. This went on over and over again, with the feeling growing on Richard that he was to be "sent to Coventry," the two who had witnessed the encounter having evidently heard a great deal that passed between the cousins and communicated the words that had fallen at the time. All this was maddening, but it was overborne by the one dread thought-- Suppose Mark really were dead, what should he do? The leaden minutes went slowly on, and somehow he gathered that the two doctors had been performing a crucial operation and one of them had gone; and, unable to bear the suspense longer, Richard turned to go and ask for himself, when the door was opened and Jerry appeared, to raise his hand and beckon to him to come out. Richard obeyed the sign, and hurried into the hall in the midst of a profound silence. "How is he?" whispered the lad, excitedly; and the man shook his head. "Don't ask me, sir," he cried. "Master wants to see you in the study." Richard uttered a low, piteous sigh, and everything seemed to swing round him, while an intense desire came to rash wildly out of the house and hurry away anywhere--to woods, or out on some vast plain, where he would be alone to think, if it were possible, and get rid of the violent throbbing in his brain. "Oh, I shall go mad!" he muttered. At that moment Jerry threw open the study door, and, trying to nerve himself for the encounter, Richard entered, to find the great tutor standing, with his hands behind him, before the fireless grate. "How is he, Mr Draycott? Pray, pray speak!" cried Richard. "I sent for you to tell you, Frayne," said the tutor, in a low, deep voice. "Sinking fast!" "Dying?" cried Richard, wildly. "No, no, sir; don't say that!" "The doctors have done all they can, Frayne. He is perfectly insensible, and they say he will pass away before many hours are gone." Richard groaned, and clapped his hands to his head, pressing them there as if to clear his brain. "More help!" he said suddenly. "I have telegraphed for our greatest specialist." "Ah!" "And to the poor fellow's father at Cannes. A terrible business, Frayne--a terrible business!" "Yes; but he must not die--he must not die!" Mr Draycott was silent for a few minutes. There was much he wanted to say, but the words seemed loth to come. "We must be prepared for the worst, Frayne," he said at last. "This is a dreadful shock." "Yes--yes!" groaned Richard. "And I have something very hard to say to you." "You cannot say anything, sir, that will make me feel worse than I do." Mr Draycott shook his head. "It must come, Frayne," he said at last; "so we may as well get the matter over. Things look very black against you." "Black, sir?" "Yes. Sinjohn and Andrews both saw how strange you looked when you passed them, and they followed, being agreed that something was wrong. It was observed too, by others." "I was angry, sir--in a rage." "Yes," said the tutor sternly. "They saw you encounter your cousin, and they heard nearly every word he said." "And what I said, sir?" "No. They tell me you spoke to him in a low voice, as if you were begging him not to do something, and they gathered that it was about keeping a trouble quiet." "No, no, sir!" cried Richard wildly. "That is how it impressed them, and they say that, when your cousin refused what you wanted, you attacked him." "No, sir! We fought; but I acted in self-defence." "Indeed!" said his tutor, coldly. "They heard words, too, about debt--a heavy sum--and forging--matters that should not be even known amongst the gentlemen studying here. I find, too, Frayne, that you have been mixed up with money matters." "It is not true, sir." "Your cousin declared you were. He was heard to say so, and if the worst comes to the worst, Frayne, his words will be believed." "Do you mean if he dies, sir?" gasped Richard. "I do, Frayne. I have had a letter from that Mr Simpson, and I find that he came to you this morning to be paid, and that sharp words passed between you in your room. This is all very bad, Frayne, and, confused though it is, it goes against you. The police--" "What?" cried Richard. "Were for arresting you at once." "Arresting me? What for?" cried the young man, indignantly. "For a murderous assault upon your cousin; but I would not hear of it now. I said that you would be here if it was found necessary to proceed against you." "Oh, but this is madness, sir!" cried Richard, excitedly. "They could not do that!" The tutor shook his head. "We must look troubles in the face, Frayne," he said. "If matters come to the worst, there must be an inquest, and, whatever you may say, your fellow-pupils' words will have weight." Richard literally staggered, and gazed wildly at the heavy face of his tutor, who went on slowly-- "It is a terrible business, Frayne, and a fearful blow for me. I cannot blame myself. I always treat those who study with me as gentlemen, and if the poor fellow upstairs does sink, the consequences must be crushing for you." "Never mind me, sir; let's think of my cousin. He must get better! There, I can think more clearly now. It is as if my head does not feel so shut up and strange. I won't try to defend myself, sir; but Andrews and Sinjohn are wrong. I am innocent." "But you struck your cousin down." "Yes, sir; I was nearly mad with passion." "Ah!" sighed the tutor. "But it was in fair fighting, sir!" "I am afraid, Frayne, it is manslaughter; and now let us bring this painful interview to a close. You will have the goodness to go up to your room, and to stay there until I ask you to come down. Stop! I think it would be better for you to have legal advice. This is all so new to me!" "I'm going to my room--to stay there, sir--but don't do anything about me till we hear what the great doctor says; it may not be so bad. Can I see my cousin now?" "No. The doctor's orders are that no one but the nurse is to enter his room. There, let us end this painful interview." "I am innocent, sir, indeed!" it was upon Richard's lips to say; but the stern, doubting look on the tutor's face checked him, and he went slowly up to his room, utterly crushed as he sank into a chair, conscious the next moment that the curtain which separated it from his bedchamber was pushed aside, and Jerry appeared. "Been a-waiting, sir. They're a-saying, sir, that you tried to kill Mr Mark Frayne because he was going to tell on you about some money troubles. It ain't true, is it, sir?" "True!" cried Richard, flushing indignantly. "I knowed it wasn't!" said Jerry, triumphantly. "You couldn't ha' done such a thing, S'Richard; but I wouldn't ha' believed as you could hit so hard." "Go now, please." "Yes, sir, just a-going; but don't you take on, sir. P'raps he'll get better; but, if he don't--well, sir, he's your cousin, but--" "That will do; now go." Jerry gave his mouth a slap, and hurried from the room. _ |
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