XIX
I crossed into my garden and silently mounted the balcony stairs I have mentioned once before. His balcony door was ajar. His room was empty. He had occupied the bed. A happy thought struck me—to feel the spot where he had lain; it was still warm. Good! But his clothes were all gone except his shoes, and they, you remember, were no proof that he was indoors.
I stole down into the garden once more, and looked hurriedly in several directions, but saw no sign of him. I am not a ferocious man even when alone, but as I came near the fence of our fat neighbor—once fat, poor fellow, and destined to be so again in time—and still saw no one, I was made conscious of waving my fist and muttering through my gritting teeth, by hearing my name softly called. It was an unfamiliar female voice that spoke, from a window beyond the fence, and it flashed on my remembrance that two kinswomen of my neighbor were watching with his wife, whose case was giving new cause for anxiety. It was Mrs. Soandso, the voice explained, and could I possibly come in there a moment?—if only to the window!
"Is our friend the Baron over here?" I asked, as I came to it. He was not.
"Well, never mind," I said; "how is your patient?"
"Oh that's just what we wish we knew. In some ways she seems better, but she's more unquiet. She's had some slight nausea and it seems to increase. Do you think that is important?"
"Yes," I said, "very. I hear some one cracking ice; you are keeping ice on her throat—no? Well, begin it at once, and persuade her to lie on her back as quietly as she can, and get her to sleep if possible! Doctor—no; he wouldn't come before morning, anyhow; but I'll send Mrs. Smith right over to you, if she possibly can come."
I turned hurriedly away and had taken only a few steps, when I lit upon the entomologist. "Well, I'll just—what are you doing here? Where were you when I was in your room just now?" His shoes were on.
"Vhat you vanted mit me? I vas by dot librair' going. For vhat you moof dot putterfly-net fon t'e mandtelpiece? You make me too much troubple to find dot vhen I vas in a hurry!" He shook it at me.
"Hurry!" In my anger and distress I laughed. "My friend"—laying a hand on him—"you'll hurry across the street with me."
He waved me off. "Yes; go on, you; I coom py undt py; I dtink t'ere iss vun maud come into dot gardten, vhat I haf not pefore seen since more as acht years, alreadty!"
"Yes," I retorted, "and so you're here at the gate alone. Now come right along with me! Aren't there enough lives in danger to-night, but you must" -He stopped me in the middle of the street.
"Mine Gott! vhat iss dot you say? Who—who—mine Gott! who iss her life in dtanger? Iss dot—mine Gott! is dot he-ere?" He pointed to Mrs. Fontenette's front window.
I could hardly keep my fist off him. "Hush! you—For one place it's here." I pushed him with my finger.
"Ach!" he exclaimed in infinite relief. "I dt'ought you mean—I—I dt'ought—hmm!—hmm! I am dtired." He leaned on me like a sick child and we went into the cottage parlor. The moment he saw the lounge he lay down upon it, or I should have taken him back into the dining-room.
"Sha'n't I put that net away for you?" I murmured, as I dropped a light covering over him.
But he only hugged the toy closer. "No; I geep it—hmm!—hmm!—I am dtired—"