He and I walked up and down the streets of Liverpool almost in silence, except when he darted into the first chemist's shop he saw to procure opium.
“Don't hinder me,” he said, imploringly, “it is the only thing that keeps me alive.”
Then I walked him about once more, till his pace flagged, his limbs tottered, he became thoroughly passive and exhausted. I called a car, and expressed my determination to see him safe home.
“Home! No, no, I must not go there.” And the poor fellow summoned all his faculties, in order to speak rationally. “You see, a gentleman in my unpleasant circumstances—in short, could you recommend any place—a quiet, out-of-the-way place, where—where I could hide?”
I had suspected things were thus. And now, if I lost sight of him even for twenty-four hours, he might be lost permanently. He was in that critical state, when the next step, if it were not to a prison, might be into a lunatic asylum.
It was not difficult to persuade him that the last place where creditors would search for a debtor would be inside a gaol, nor to convey him, half-stupefied as he was, into my own rooms, and leave him fast asleep on my bed.
Yet, even now, I cannot account for the influence I so soon gained, and kept; except that any person in his seven senses always has power over another nearly out of them, and to a sick man there is no autocrat like the doctor.
Now for his present condition. The day following, I removed him to a country lodging, where an old woman I know will look after him. The place is humble enough, but they are honest people. He may lie safe there till some portion of health returns; his rent, &c.—my prudent little lady will be sure to be asking after my “circumstances”—well, love, his rent for the next month at least, I can easily afford to pay. The present is provided for—as to his future, heaven only knows.
I wrote, according to promise, to your sister Penelope, explaining where Mr. Charteris was, his state of health, and the position of his affairs; also, my advice, which he neither assents to nor declines, that as soon as his health will permit, he should surrender himself in London, go through the Insolvent Court, and start anew in life. A hard life, at best, since, whatever situation he may obtain, it will take years to free him from all his liabilities.
Miss Johnston's answer I received this morning. It was merely an envelope containing a bank note of 20L. Sir William's gift, possibly; I told her he had better be made aware of his nephew's abject state,—or do you suppose it is from herself? I thought beyond your quarterly allowance, you had none of you much ready money? If there is anything I ought to know before applying this sum to the use of Mr. Charteris, you will, of course, tell me?