Then there stole a little balm into her despairing soul. The doctor, after a hurried examination, turned round to say that the man was still alive, and begged that a well-known surgeon in the neighborhood should be immediately sent for. Gussy, who was very pale but perfectly calm, and complete mistress of the situation, herself superintended the removal of the couch into the dining-room, which was spacious and well aired, and had everything removed which was out of place.
The table was already spread for the dinner at which Meredith was to have been one of the chief guests and Dolff to have occupied the place of master of the house. Fortunately Gussy did not as yet know the double misery involved. It was dreadful enough to have this calamity fall so suddenly without warning upon the domestic happiness and calm. The dinner-table, with all its pretty arrangements of flowers and shining crystal and plate, was such a mockery of the sudden, unexplained, incomprehensible catastrophe, that this touch of the familiar and commonplace almost broke down Gussy’s composure. She dismantled it noiselessly with her own hands, assisted eagerly, as she remembered afterwards with compunction and gratitude, by Janet, who clung closely to her like her shadow, following where she went with an anxious endeavor to be of use, which went to Gussy’s heart. They removed the incongruous ornaments in less time than half-a-dozen housemaids would have done, and pushed the table aside.
When the surgeon arrived, Janet was ready to be sent on any errand, and did everything with noiseless rapidity, looking not at the figure on the sofa, which she seemed incapable of regarding, but at Gussy for her orders. She was like an obedient, docile slave. When the ladies were sent out of the room she still clung to Miss Harwood like her shadow, moving only when she moved. In the hall the policeman still held his place, with several of the people who had surged in after him and who were giving their several accounts of the transaction.
“I see it all,” said one. “I was on the other side of the road, and I see it all. There was a woman with the poor gentleman. I can’t tell you what kind of a woman; not much good, I shouldn’t think—or perhaps she was a-begging. There wasn’t light enough to see. And all in a moment some one made a spring upon him. I don’t know where he came from, officer. I see him dash on the gentleman as if he had fallen out of the sky. And down he went like a nine-pin, and afore I could get across the road the other lifts him up again and down with his head upon the ground.”
Gussy was standing by, listening intently, and Janet behind, half-hidden in her shadow, listening too, with such wild yet paralyzing sensation, wondering would he know her if he saw her—this man who had seen it all—shrinking behind her protectress faint and sick with the unreality, the fact and falsehood mingled in which her feet were caught.
Gussy’s voice so close to her even made her start, “Have they got the man? Is he known?”
The witness turned to her with an instinctive transfer of his attention.
“He just disappeared, mum, as he came. Afore I could come up to them he was gone.”
“I saw a man running round the corner,” said another, “but I took no notice, for I didn’t know then what was up.”
“I’ll tell you what, miss,” said another, “the fellow’s in your garden if he’s anywhere. I see some one dart in when your man-servant came out. I’ll take my oath he did.”