“He were trying to choke the life out of Master!” Jimmy said,, picking himself up from the floor. “If it hadn’t ha’ been for me he’d ha’ done it, surely!”
“You keep a still tongue in your head, and get the whisky out of the cupboard, quick!” Reuben commanded, his concerned gaze on Penhallow. He gave Raymond a push towards a chair, and thrust him down into it, repeating: “Set down a crum! Please the pigs you haven’t done for him!”
Raymond sank down and dropped his head between his clenched fists. “I hope I have!” he said savagely.
Reuben, finding that his mad rage was waning, paid no more heed to him, but snatched the whisky from Jimmy, and bade him help him to straighten Penhallow. The laboured breath rattled alarmingly and Penhallow’s colour was very bad, but when they had laid him back on his pillows, and revived him with neat spirit, he began to recover, and even to be able to speak. “Murderous dog!” he gasped, his lips twisting into a rueful grin. “Hot-blooded ruffians, my sons, Reuben!”
“You lay quiet, Master! As for you, Jimmy, get along out of this! You’re not wanted here!”
“Happen I might be needed yet,” Jimmy said, looking at Raymond.
Penhallow waved him away with one hand, feeling his bruised throat with the other. His gaze travelled to Raymond, who had risen, and walked over to the fireplace, and was staring down at the smouldering logs in the hearth. He smiled rather unpleasantly, and transferred his attention to Reuben, directing him to pick up the table, and the scattered papers. “And clear that mess of glass away before my poor little bitch can cut her paws on it!” he said huskily. “Go and get a dustpan, you old fool! There’s nothing the matter with me. Heave me up a bit first!”
The effort of struggling into a more upright position made him pant again, and drag a hand across his brow to wipe away the sweat, but he nodded dismissal to Reuben, who,. after looking undecidedly from him to Raymond for a moment, reluctantly left the room.
Penhallow lay recovering his breath, allowing his overdriven heart to steady down. Its wild flurry made him feel sick; he pressed his hand to his side, and swallowed once or twice, and licked his lips. Raymond raised his head and, turning it, watched him sombrely and in silence.
“A nice, dutiful son you are!” Penhallow said presently. “Oh, I don’t blame you! Tickled you up a bit, didn’t I? Well, you asked for it, and, by God, you got it! I shouldn’t wonder but what we’ll get along better now.”