"Yes, sir; she's very ill," was the answer. "Got something wrong inside her, the doctor said, that'll have to be cut out. I'm taking her to Reading now."
"To Reading?" I said. "But why to Reading? I can easily arrange to get her into a good hospital for women here."
"No, sir, thank you kindly. She's set on going to Reading, and nowhere else. The doctor there (she's been there afore, you know) don't treat poor folk as some other doctors do. They don't mean not to be kind, but they speak so sharp, it frightens her. The doctor at Reading—ah! he is different. She ain't a bit afraid of him. She won't go anywhere but to Reading. She's set on it, sir, and so am I."
Knowing the man as I did, I could see that it was no use to argue with him.
"I see," I said. "Quite right, George. I'll come with you as far as Paddington, if you'll let me. Shadwell Station is some way yet. You look hot and tired already, and so I'll take a turn at pushing the pram while you rest. But if I may make a suggestion, I should say that the best thing to do is to steer for the nearest place where we're likely to find a four-wheeled cab and let me drive you to Paddington. How did you propose taking Mrs. Nash there?"
"Same way as I'm taking her to Reading, sir," he said unconcernedly; "in the pram, of course."
"The pram!" I ejaculated. "My dear Nash, what nonsense! It's forty miles! You can't wheel a grown woman forty miles in a child's perambulator."
"Can't I, sir?" he said, smiling with an air of superiority. "I've taken her there twice before in the perambulator, and by picking up a bit of work on the way we've managed nicely."
Then he looked at me queerly.
"Mr. Rissler," he said in a low voice, "will you take a word from a man as you've been a friend to, and as'd like to prove himself a friend of yours? I can't answer no question, and I didn't ought to say what I'm going to say. I know as you're the poor man's friend, though you are one of the gentry. But there's them as don't know it; and, sir, believe me, there's trouble ahead for the likes o' you—bitter trouble, bloody trouble. You take my word for it. And this is what I want to say to you, sir. When the trouble comes, if you should find yourself among enemies, if you should find yourself in danger o' your life, as'll happen to many like you afore long, just you throw up your left arm with your fist closed, and say, 'God and Napoleon and the Dumpling strike with a granite arm!'"