The operation commenced. I'm not doctor enough to give you the details, and I could not see very clearly, but apparently the doctors—for both the brothers appeared to be medical men—had established, by means of a sort of a pipe, a connection between the circulatory system of the big Jew and the poor fellow on the bed, so that the blood of the former poured into the veins of the latter.
"'MY HUSBAND HAS MET WITH A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT,' SHE CRIED."
As this idea came home to me, I glanced anxiously at the stranger to see if he was fitted to bear such a strain, and I was satisfied. A fine full-blooded fellow he looked, six feet high and well built, with black hair and ruddy cheeks, which seemed to me to be gradually growing paler, but perhaps this may have been due to the failing light of the little lamp by whose feeble rays this difficult operation was being performed.
It seemed to me that this wonderful lending or selling of life, as it were, had been going on for a long time, when I heard a slight noise behind me, and, glancing round, I saw Mrs. Barton at the end of the room near the door. Her eyes were fixed in a stare of terror on the face, not of her husband on the bed, but on the stranger who was saving that husband's life. The operation was almost over apparently. Barton's face was in shadow, and I could see no change in its appearance, but the smaller of the two doctors was bringing forward instruments and bandages with a view apparently to the necessary stoppage of the flow of blood when the connecting pipe should be removed. I motioned to Mrs. Barton to keep back and be silent. I suppose the big Jew Israel noticed my gesture, for his eyes turned towards the door. I saw his face, which was now very pale, suddenly stiffen as it were, and in another moment he gave a terrible cry, and leaped back from the bed.
The smaller doctor, with the most admirable presence of mind, instantly commenced operations on Barton's arm, while his brother seized hold of his lodger round the waist. Mrs. Barton, her eyes still fixed on the big Jew, was crouching down at the end of the room, and I hurried round the bed only just in time to stop the man Israel, who rushed towards her, dragging the doctor after him, and yelling out some perfectly unintelligible gibberish. It was obvious, however, that he meant murder, and I collared him in front while the doctor hung on gallantly behind. Israel was enormously strong, and, seizing the little man by the neck, he simply tore him off and flung him away into a corner of the room. In doing this, however, he threw all his weight on to his left foot, which I promptly kicked from under him, and we came down together, knocking over the table and rolling wildly about on the floor.
He seemed to be growing weaker, and at last I got my knee on his chest, when I suddenly remembered that his arm had never been attended to, that he must be bleeding to death. I could see nothing; for in our fall his head had struck the table and upset the lamp—thank goodness it was filled with colza, not paraffin—so I yelled to the doctors to strike a light and lend a hand. The little man, who had quietly finished Barton's arm while we were waltzing about all over the floor, relighted the lamp, and I don't think I shall ever forget the scene that the feeble light displayed to me.
Barton was sitting up on the bed looking anxiously in my direction; one doctor was just getting on to his feet, the other was hurrying towards me, and in the corner by the door was huddled Mrs. Barton, still wildly staring round, but perfectly motionless. I looked down at the man on the floor, and saw to my horror that he was on the point of death—in fact, before the little doctor could reach him, and put the lamp down, his jaw had dropped and his head fell back with a thud on the bare boards.
"He is dead," said the little man, quietly; "that blow on the head would perhaps have sufficed, but the cause of death was loss of blood; perhaps the gentleman would prefer to make the fee seven hundred pounds and he shall not be troubled with any too curious questions. As the gentleman's carriage is at the door, the gentleman had better be removed; it will not hurt him. Is there anything the matter with the lady?"
Mrs. Barton had risen, and now came slowly forward. "No," she said, "I am well. That man—I was afraid—I thought he was going to—to hurt me."