The Dean.
I—I am upset to-night, Blore. Of course you leave this day month. I—I [looking round.] Blore! He’s gone! If I don’t call him back the Spire may be richer to-morrow by five hundred pounds. I won’t dwell on it. I’ll read—I’ll read. [Snatches a book at haphazard from the bookshelf. There is the sound of falling rain and distant thunder.] Rain, thunder. How it assimilates with the tempest of my mind! I’ll read. Bless me! This is very strange. [Reading.] “The Horse and its Ailments, by John Cox, M. R. C. V. S.” It was with the aid of this volume that I used to doctor my old mare at Oxford. A leaf turned down. [Reading.] “Simple remedies for chills—the Bolus.” The helpless beast in my stable is suffering from a chill. Good gracious! If I allow Blore to risk my fifty pounds on Dandy Dick, surely it would be advisable to administer this Bolus to the poor animal without delay. [Referring to the book hastily.] I have these drugs in my chest. There’s not a moment to be lost! [Going to the bell and ringing.] I shall want help. I’ll fetch my medicine chest.
[He lays the book upon the table and goes into the Library.
Blore enters.
Blore.
[Looking round.] Where is he? The bell rang. The Dean’s puzzling me with his uncommon behavior, that he is.
[The Dean comes from the Library, carrying a large medicine chest. On encountering Blore he starts and turns away his head, the picture of guilt.
The Dean.
Blore, I feel it would be a humane act to administer to the poor ignorant animal in my stable a simple Bolus as a precaution against chill. I rely upon your aid and discretion in ministering to any guest in the Deanery.
Blore.