“I will see that he lacks for no care or attention; as a wounded and suffering man, he will be the same to me as a friend or guest until he gets well; and as such I shall expect you will also exercise your utmost skill, and do the very best you can for him,” Earle said, quietly.
“Well, well, well!” muttered the astonished disciple of Esculapius; and then he stood regarding his companion for a moment, with raised eyebrows, and his mouth puckered into the smallest possible compass.
“Unless you object to treating such a patient,” Earle added, with a little hauteur.
“No, no, no; bless you, no!” Dr. Sargeant returned quickly. “I will do my very best for the poor wretch; you are right—it would be sacrificing his life to have him removed, and you may rely upon my discretion.”
And the noted doctor went away somewhat mystified as to what manner of man the young marquis might be, that he was willing to turn his magnificent home into a hospital for thieves and robbers.
Earle went back to his charge, whom he found restless, feverish and burning with intolerable thirst.
He swore savagely as Earle made his appearance, and defiantly demanded what he was going to do with him.
“Take care of you until you get on your legs again,” was the calm reply, as he held some pleasant, cooling drink to the man’s parched lips.
He drank eagerly, and then fell back among the soft pillows with a groan.
“Bosh! that’s a likely story!” he returned, after a minute, with an angry flash of his eyes; “out with it, and don’t keep me in suspense; I’ve enough to bear with this pain.”