“Then, my dear, where is he?” he rejoined quickly.
“He is—he has been called home,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Very extraordinary,” I heard him mutter, as he sank back on his pallet, “but they were right; John has no head for business; when did he go home, my dear?”
I could not help bursting into tears at this reiterated inquiry; your uncle raised himself on his elbow and gazed in my face, and as he did so, a sudden light seemed to break in upon him. I knew suspense would be torture, and added, “Yes, dear Laurie, he was called home this morning; his death was by a pistol-shot, purely accidental,—no pain, no distress, conscious to the last, and quite satisfied to go; he desired me to give you his love, Laurie; now you know the truth, and you shall hear every particular as soon as you are strong enough to bear it.”
Your uncle heard these tidings in perfect silence; he was calm, but too deeply heart-stricken to speak; next to me, I think he loved John better than any one in the world; often, very often, when I go into his dressing-room, I find him gazing on the sketch of him in crayons, that hangs over his chimney-piece. I will show it you when, you come to stay with us.
It was a sense of thankfulness for my preservation from danger that made your uncle bear up as he did. When I came to examine his wound I was shocked at the state it was in. A sword-cut extended from the neck over the shoulder to the arm, not only unhealed, but to the highest degree inflamed. No wonder his whole frame was fevered, for the suffering must have been severe indeed. The kind but rough treatment of his highland nurses was not calculated to promote a speedy cure; the food they brought him was not such as a sick man could eat; nor could they understand his English prejudice in favour of cleanliness. With great difficulty (he afterwards told me) he had the night of his arrival obtained a poultice, the application of which had given him such relief that he had dropped asleep. Presently, however, he was wakened by two or more rats tugging at it with all their might. He had tried to drive the intruders away, but was fairly obliged to give in, and fling the poultice to the farthest corner of the room.
I was bathing the shoulder with warm water when a stranger in the uniform of a Russian colonel appeared, and introduced himself as Dr Goloff. He went to business at once, inspected the wound, felt the pulse, then said there was no chance of his patient’s improving until he was removed from that unwholesome place. The irritative fever which accompanies such a wound had been much aggravated, he said, by bad air and improper dressings. He was commissioned, he added, by his friend Captain Blundel to see Mr Englefield removed at once to Captain Blundel’s tent, which was pitched for surveying purposes near the foot of this hill. No sooner said than done. A kind of litter was constructed, and your uncle placed upon it. We were about to set out when I saw Basil eyeing us from afar, sadly and gloomily. The remembrance of a shade of injustice towards him came across me painfully, so I went to him and asked him to be one of Laurie’s bearers; poor Basil! he sprang to execute my bidding with a look of impassioned gratitude that was most touching. With his powerful help the short journey was soon accomplished, and the litter safely set down in the large, watertight, and cheerful tent.
A painful process was needed in order to bring the wound into a right state for healing, and when it was over, Dr Goloff administered to your uncle a composing draught, adding, cheerily, “You, monsieur, will do well to sleep, while I give madame instructions for your future treatment.” He then drew me aside, and after relieving my mind by giving a favourable opinion of the case added a strong caution against suffering Laurie’s mind to dwell on painful subjects. By so doing, he said, not only would the patient’s recovery be rendered tedious, but his nerves might be shaken for life. He could see that some anxiety weighed heavily on his mind; it should at all costs be removed.
“It should indeed, but how?” thought I, with a despairing sigh.
The sorrowful question was about to be answered through the mercy of that good Providence which helps even the faithless and undeserving. I was musing dolefully at the tent door when a large party appeared in the distance, and one of them spurred forward, and came up to me at full gallop. It was Captain Blundel. He dismounted, and with a beaming face said—“Good news, Mrs Englefield; I think I have brought your patient a tonic more effectual than even Dr Goloff could prescribe. When I left you an hour and a half ago, I went to the Prince-Bishop, and imparted to him our suspicions as to the true name and history of his prisoner, begging his permission to sift the matter. With his usual gentlemanlike feeling he at once granted it. I then hastened to the hut where the prisoner lay guarded by unfriendly Montenegrins. Without preamble, I said, ‘I have the honour of speaking to Mr Orlando Jones, I believe?’ ‘Who told you my name, sir?’ he exclaimed, starting to his feet in great alarm: then, perceiving the mistake he had made in thus proving his own identity, he tried to retract, but stammered and broke down. I proceeded quietly to demand the restoration of the papers and jewels, fraudulently carried off by him from Mr Popham’s office at Ragusa. He tried to shuffle off the charge. ‘Very well,’ said I, ‘do as you please, but mark me, I am empowered by his highness to say that only by full restitution can you hope for a continuance of his protection; if that is withdrawn, your life is scarcely worth a pin’s purchase.’ The poor wretch turned pale and shook in every joint. Feeling, doubtless, the truth of this last remark he surrendered at discretion, entreating me to stand his friend, and confessing the whole extent of his frauds. His property, he said, was all in the hands of his captors, but it was possible they might not have discovered the jewels as they were cunningly secreted within his saddle. To be brief, I got the Vladika’s leave to examine the saddle, and found within it this packet, which I have every reason to believe is the object of your husband’s search.”