Hugh drew a deep breath, and stared at the silent figure. For an instant his face showed irresolution; then it changed, and he said harshly—'Yes, I am. Do as I told you. Get the spirits, and send someone—sharp!'
'Mr. Carnaby, you're a great blundering thickhead—if you care for my opinion of you. You deserve all you've got and all you'll get.'
Hugh again breathed deeply. The woman's abuse was nothing to him.
'Are you going to do anything!' he said. 'Or shall I ring for someone else?'
She left the room, and speedily returned with a decanter of brandy. All their exertions proved useless; the head hung aside, the eyes stared. In a few minutes Carnaby asked whether a doctor had been sent for.
'Yes. When I hear him at the door I shall go away. You came here against my advice, and you've made a pretty job of it. Well, you'll always get work at a slaughter-house.'
Her laugh was harder to bear than the words it followed. Hugh, with a terrible look, waved her away from him.
'Go—or I don't know what I may do next. Take yourself out of my sight!—out!'
She gave way before him, backing to the door; there she laughed again, waved her hand in a contemptuous farewell, and withdrew.
For half an hour Carnaby stood by the divan, or paced the room. Once or twice he imagined a movement of Redgrave's features, and bent to regard them closely; but in truth there was no slightest change. Within doors and without prevailed unbroken silence; not a step, not a rustle. The room seemed to grow intolerably hot. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Hugh went to the window and opened it a few inches; a scent of vegetation and of fresh earth came to him with the cool air. He noticed that rain had begun to fall, large drops pattering softly on leaves and grass and the roof of the veranda. Then sounded the rolling of carriage wheels, nearer and nearer. It was the doctor's carriage, no doubt.