CHAPTER XV
The most tangible result of the aquatic performance was that Gage, through his long immersion, caught a bad chill, and had to take to his bed. Peckover, who was none the worse for the trying twenty minutes (having probably been too frightened to think of catching cold), was summoned to his lordship's bedroom, and there passed a particularly uncomfortable quarter of an hour.
"It is all your idiotic fault that I'm stuck away here," the patient declared wrathfully. "That ass of a doctor says he won't let me get up for a week. A fine lot of fun I'm getting out of the title up to now. And I'm paying you a hundred pounds for a week in bed. As though it matters when I'm between the blankets whether I'm a lord or a solicitor's clerk. A peerage only counts when you've got your boots on."
"I'm very sorry, old man," said Peckover contritely. "But I don't see that you can blame me."
"I do blame you," Gage burst out. "Why couldn't you do as I told you, instead of dodging about like a fool and nearly bringing us both to our death!"
"You might make allowances," urged Peckover, "for a chap's feelings, when he finds himself for the first time in cold water with his clothes on."
"Bah!" Gage returned scornfully. "You've no pluck. And you spoilt the whole show. Well, it will have to stand, anyhow; I'm not going to let you make a fool of me again, whatever you may do with yourself. Now perhaps you will put your mind to carrying through the dry land part of the trick. If you don't I'll chuck you back your beggarly title, and get on without it. It hasn't done much for me yet."
"What do you want me to do?"
"While I'm lying here," Gage answered in an aggrieved tone, "you've got to make the most of the rescue. I reckon neither of us wants to play the joke over again."
"Not me," Peckover agreed heartily.