“We often mean to do things that are impossible, doctor. You cannot. So act sensibly. Take some refreshment, and attend to your patient. Will you have the goodness to look round this room?”
Chester made no reply.
“You will not smoke? I will. My nerves want soothing.”
The speaker lit a large cigar, and left the gold-mounted case open upon the table.
“Better take one,” he said as he exhaled the fragrant fumes; “they are rather fine. Now, doctor; that door communicates with the back the hall, and it is locked; that other one with a lobby from which the upper and lower parts of the house are reached; and it, too, is locked. You naturally intend to communicate with the outside. Well, you cannot. This dining-room has no windows, and is lit up night and day. You are a prisoner, my dear sir, and you will not communicate with the servants, for you will see none. These gentlemen will help me as your gaolers; an eminently respectable old housekeeper—lady-like I may say, eh, Paddy?”
The young man addressed nodded and grinned.
“A lady-like body will see that all your animal wants are provided for; a chair-bed will be brought in; and to make your stay more pleasant two or three of us will take you to the billiard-room overhead and have a game with you—by the way, that place has only skylights. Where we stand used to be a sooty cat-walk of a garden till we built these rooms over. A great improvement to the house.”
“Who are you? What house is this?” said Chester, sharply.
“Your host, sir; and the house is ours—at your service. Better have a cigar. ‘Needs must when the devil drives.’ That is your position now—I playing the devil.”
A low moan from the wounded man changed the current of the doctor’s thoughts; and with the others watching him curiously, he went straight to his patient’s side to place a cushion behind him and relieve the pressure upon his wound, after which the patient seemed to sink once more into a state of repose.