“It is pretty sure to, sir—especially to me,” he muttered, “if I get him by the throat. Who is that moving there?” he said aloud.
“On’y me, Mr Pug,” said a rough voice, and the doctor went on.
“You misunderstand me, Mr Pugh,” continued the doctor, in a whisper. “I mean that the shock might be fatal to young Studwick, and I am sure it would be, in her delicate state, to your wife.”
“My wife should have stayed ashore, sir,” said Dutch, rather harsh, for he resented this interference.
“Your words are very bitter, Mr Pugh,” said the doctor, coldly, “and, excuse me, not manly at such a time. Ever since that night when I was called in to Mrs Pugh, and she had that series of swoons—”
“You called in to my wife,” said Dutch, who was startled by the words; “that night?”
“Yes, Miss Studwick sent for me, as I was close at hand. Did you not know?”
“No, no,” said Dutch, “I was away from home. I—I forgot—I did not know.”
“I mean when I found her so weak and ill. You must know—that night I carried her up to bed.”
“Yes—yes,” said Dutch, in a strange voice that he did not know for his own. “You mean that night when you carried her in your arms—to her bedroom—there was a light there.”