CHAPTER LXXIII.
The Troublesome Shoe-maker.—Gray’s Agony and Danger.—The Flight.
Jacob Gray no longer was necessitated to take a temporary lodging among the sheds of Covent-garden market, for upon, by the dim light of a lamp, examining Learmont’s purse, he found a sum nearly approaching to twenty guineas in it, and a ghastly smile same across his face, as, by the mere possession of money, he felt, or fancied he felt, considerably stronger and better than he had been for many days.
He walked with a firmer step and an air of greater self-possession than before. One of his first acts was to dive into a back street, for the purpose of finding some place in which he could lodge for the night, and he had not gone far before he saw a small dingy-looking public-house, where he thought he might find all he wanted in the way of rest and refreshment without risk.
It is strange how intense mental anxiety will overcome and smother almost entirely the consciousness of bodily pain. So it was with Jacob Gray—for although he had been suffering much pain now for many hours from his wounded face, his great anxiety of mind had thrown such mere physical annoyance quite into the shade; but now that he had money in his pocket, and fancied he saw light in the darkness of fate, he began to experience great agony from the wound, and previous to seeking refreshment or rest he wished to procure surgical assistance lest any shots should be remaining in his face. With this intent he walked on until he came to a chemist’s shop, near Westminster-bridge. On entering the little doorway, for a very little mean shop it was, he asked of a man behind the counter to examine his face.
“You have been wounded, and had better go to some hospital,” said the surgeon, who was one of the self-taught and self-dubbed medical men who flourished up to within the last thirty years.
“I have wherewithal to pay you for your services,” said Gray, taking out Learmont’s purse and laying down a guinea.
Upon this the surgeon, with a good deal of practical skill, carefully examined Gray’s face, and extracted several of the shots which had remained just beneath the skin.
“How did this accident happen to you?” said the surgeon.
“A careless boy was shooting sparrows,” replied Jacob Gray.