So they smoked, and talked, and tried rough remedies until the doctor arrived.
To him they told the exact truth; he passed no comment, examined his patient, cut away the hair from the scalp wound, shook his head over it, bound it up, administered some stimulant, and sat down to await the return of consciousness.
But this was long delayed, and when, at last, Philip opened his eyes, he only rallied sufficiently to sleep.
The doctor promised to come early next day, and left.
Throughout Wednesday and Thursday Philip was partly delirious, waking at times to a vague consciousness of his surroundings, but mostly asking vacantly for "Evelyn."
Often he fought with a person named "Jocky Mason," and explained that "Sir Philip" was not in Yorkshire at all.
The wife of one of his rescuers was assiduous in her attentions. Most fortunately, for these fisherfolk were very poor, that lure spread beneath the cliff inveigled an unprecedented number of salmon, so she could afford to buy eggs and milk in abundance, and the doctor brought such medicines as were needed.
Gradually Philip recovered, until, at nine o'clock, on Thursday night, he came into sudden and full use of his senses.
Then the doctor was sent for urgently; Philip insisted on getting up at once. He was kept in bed almost by main force.
With the doctor's arrival there was a further change. Here was an educated man, who listened attentively to his patient's story, and did not instantly conclude that he was raving.