The stabbed man lay with his head on a rolled-up coat of my grandfather's, and he was bad for a child to look at. His face had gone tallowy; his eyes, which turned (and frightened me) as I came in, were now directed steadily upward; he breathed low and quick, and though Joe the potman pressed cloths to the wound in his chest, there was blood about his lips and chin, and blood bubbled dreadfully in his mouth. But what startled me most, and what fixed my regard on his face despite my tremors, so that I could scarce take my eyes from it, was the fact that, paleness and blood and drawn cheeks notwithstanding, I saw in him the ugly, broken-nosed fellow who had been in the private compartment last night, with a watch to sell; the watch, with an initial on the back, that now lay in Grandfather Nat's cash-box.
CHAPTER IX
STEPHEN'S TALE
Somebody had gone for a doctor, it was said, but a doctor was not always easy to find in Wapping. Mrs. Grimes, who was at some late work upstairs, was not disturbed at first by the noise, since excitement was not uncommon in the neighbourhood. But now she came to the stairfoot door, and peeped and hurried back. For myself, I squeezed into a far corner and stared, a little sick; for there was a deal of blood, and Joe the potman was all dabbled, like a slaughterman.
My grandfather returned almost on the doctor's heels, and with my grandfather were some river police, in glazed hats and pilot coats. The doctor puffed and shook his head, called for cold water, and cloths, and turpentine, and milk. Cold water and cloths were ready enough, and turpentine was easy to get, but ere the milk came it was useless. The doctor shook his head and puffed more than ever, wiped his hands and pulled his cuffs down gingerly. I could not see the man on the floor, now, for the doctor was in the way; but I heard him, just before the doctor stood up. The noise sent my neck cold at the back; though indeed it was scarce more than the noise made in emptying a large bottle by up-ending it.
The doctor stood up and shook his head. "Gone," he said. "And I couldn't have done more than keep him alive a few minutes, at best. It was the lung, and bad—two places. Have they got the man?"
"No," said Grandfather Nat, "nor ain't very likely, I'd say. Never saw him again, once he got behind a tier o' lighters. Waterside chap, certain; knows the river well enough, an' these stairs. I couldn't ha' got that boat o' mine off quicker, not myself."
"Ah," said one of the river policemen, "he's a waterside chap, that's plain enough. Any other 'ud a-bolted up the street. Never said nothing, did he—this one?" He was bending over the dead man; while the others cleared the people back from the door, and squeezed Mr. Cripps out among them.