Some Must Watch - Ethel Lina White (best book club books .TXT) 📗

CHAPTER XII

THE FIRST GAP

 

Newton broke the stunned silence.

 

“Who’s responsible for such infernal carelessness?” he asked.

 

Miss Warren and Helen exchanged glances of mingled guilt and

condemnation. While neither was exactly clear in her own conscience,

each wanted to shift the responsibility on to the other. As employer,

Miss Warren was allowed the first thrust.

 

“Miss Capel, didn’t you screw the cap on the cylinder, after use?” she

asked.

 

“No, because you sent me out of the room.”

 

“But, surely you did so, before you went?”

 

“I couldn’t, because you had the cylinder.”

 

Helen spoke with firmness, for the reason that she was not quite clear.

Fortunately, Miss Warren was equally confused.

 

“Had I?” she murmured. “Yes, I believe I was giving oxygen to Lady

Warren. But I have a dim recollection of screwing on the cap.”

 

“What’s the good of arguing?” broke in Newton. “The thing is, to get in

a second supply as soon as possible.”

 

“Yes, that is the essential point,” she said. “I will speak to the

Professor.”

 

Helen followed her into the study, to find that Nurse Barker had got

there before them. Her heavy voice had lost some of its culture as she

talked volubly to the Professor.

 

“It is unusual to come to a case and find such slackness,” she said.

“I’d like to know who’s responsible.”

 

As she spoke, she fixed her deep-set eyes on Helen.

 

“I am,” replied Miss Warren quietly.

 

She appeared indifferent to Helen’s look of gratitude, as she spoke to

her brother.

 

“I suppose we must order another cylinder, at once.”

 

“Oh, there’s no great hurry,” broke in Nurse Barker.

 

“She will go through the night quite well, on brandy. She–—”

 

“Allow me to speak, please, Nurse.” The Professor raised his hand in

protest. “The doctor told me, this evening that Lady Warren’s condition

is critical.”

 

“A green country doctor?” sneered Nurse Barker. “She’s not as bad as

that. I know when a patient is going to die, and it’s when I say she

is.”

 

“The doctor’s opinion stands,” said the Professor coldly.

 

“I will telephone for another cylinder to be rushed out, at once.”

 

“The Factory will be closed,” objected Miss Warren.

 

“And they’ll never send it out to this wilderness, in such a storm,”

added Nurse Barker.

 

“In that case, someone must fetch it.” The Professor spoke decisively.

“Lady Warren’s life shall not be risked for the sake of sparing someone

a little trouble.” Helen listened rather guiltily, for she feared that

Dr. Parry had stressed the gravity of the case for her sake.

 

“Does Lady Warren know that the doctor said I’m not to sleep in her room

tonight?” she asked, anxious to have the matter clinched by the

Professor’s authority.

 

“Did he say that, too?” demanded Nurse Barker, a militant gleam in her eye.

 

The Professor pressed his brow with an impatient gesture, hich made

Helen realize that Nurse Barker—in rousing his antagonism—was proving

her own unconscious ally.

 

“The doctor expects a crisis,” he explained, “so, naturally, a trained

nurse must be in attendance.”

 

“Why don’t you have a second nurse?” asked Nurse Barker.

 

“We have not the accommodation,” replied Miss Warren.

 

“Yes, you have. She”—Nurse Barker nodded at Helen—“can sleep in an

attic. Besides, the bachelor’s room will be empty, tomorrow.”

 

Helen stared at this revelation of a perceptive talent which eclipsed

her own. In this brief time, the nurse—while, apparently not leaving her

patient—had mapped the house.

 

“There is not enough work for two nurses,” said Miss Warren. “The other

nurses have all assured me that Lady Warren sleeps nearly all through

the night, so that their rest has not been unduly disturbed…

Didn’t the Matron tell you that the salary is proportionate to the

demands?”

 

Nurse Barker grew suddenly meek.

 

“Yes, thank you,” she said, “I’m quite satisfied with the conditions.”

 

The Professor turned to his sister.

 

“I will telephone myself,” he said, going into the hall, followed by

Miss Warren. Left alone with Nurse Barker, Helen broke a heavy silence.

 

“I’m sorry. But you see, I’m not trained.”

 

“And I am.” Nurse Barker’s voice was corrosive. “To be ‘trained,’ means

that I’m made of iron, and can eat leavings, and do without sleep, and

work twenty-five hours to the day.”

 

“It’s a shame. But it’s not my fault.” “Yes it is.” Nurse Barker pounced

fiercely. “You hung about to get at that doctor first, and you coached

him what to say. Oh, you needn’t think you can get the better of me.

There’s little I don’t see, and what’s left over I smell. We’ve not

finished with this. If I turn the last trick—and I’ve something up my

sleeve—you may yet sleep tonight in the blue room.”

 

Helen was not only scared by the uncanny penetration of the nurse, but

she recognized the cruelty which made her hammer away at her fear of

Lady Warren, like a torturer plucking at a nerve.

 

To break away from her company, she hurried into the hall, where the

Professor was speaking into the telephone. He raised his hand, as a

signal for her to remain. Presently he hung up the receiver and spoke to

her.

 

“They can’t make delivery until tomorrow, but they have promised to let

my man have a cylinder tonight, from any time up to eleven. Miss Capel,

please let Oates know he is to start, at once.”

 

Helen did not relish her job, when she found Oates stretched before the

kitchen fire, enjoying his first pipe after his work. She admired all

the more his self-control, and the obedience which he had learned in his

Navy days.

 

He got up instantly, and began to lace up his boots.

 

“Just as I Was looking forward to a nice lay-down on the bed,” he said.

“But that’s life.”

 

“Shall I ask Mr. Rice to go instead?”

 

“No, miss. Orders is orders, and the master said Oates. Besides, I

wouldn’t trust him with the car. No one but me knows how to ease my

sweetheart up them hills.” He turned to his wife. “Mind you lock up the

back after me when I go out to the garage. Remember, you’ll have to be

double careful with me away.”

 

Helen felt a pang of dismay at the thought of losing Oates so soon.

Merely to look at his gigantic frame and amiable face, made her feel

safe.

 

It did not improve matters to realize that she was partly responsible

for her own trouble.”

 

“If I’d gritted my teeth, and said nothing to the doctor he wouldn’t

have been sent,” she thought. “The Professor said we did things

ourselves… But did anyone make me do it?”

 

Suddenly she remembered how Nurse Barker had played upon her fears—and

she shivered slightly.

 

“Oh, I do wish you weren’t going,” she said’ to Oates.

 

“Same here, miss,” he replied. “But you’ll be all right, with two strong

young gents, to say nothing of that nurse.”

 

“When will you be back?” asked Mrs. Oates.

 

“It will be just as soon as I can make the grade.” He turned to Helen.

“Will you tell the master I’ll sound the hooter and wait on the drive

for a bit, in case he wants to speak to me.”

 

Helen delivered his message to the Professor, who had returned to his

study. Although he repressed his irritation, she could see that he was

fretted by the interruption.

 

“Thank you, Miss Capel,” he said. “But Oates knows what to get, and

where to go for it.”

 

Feelingthat she wanted to speed his parting, although unseen, Helen went

into the lobby, which was exposed to the full fury of the gale. As the

wind shook the stout door with the impact of a mailed fist, and the rain

gurgled down the pipes, she felt doubly sorry for Oates.

 

Presently she heard his hooter outside, and longed to open the ‘door to

wish him ‘good-bye.’ But she remembered how the wind had swayed the

light when she let in the doctor.

 

The engine of the old crock burst into a series of spluttering

explosions and deepened to a roar, before it gradually died away in the

distance. With a pang of loneliness, Helen slipped through the swing

doors.

 

She was just in time to witness a lively passage of arms between Miss

Warren and Stephen ‘Rice.

 

“Is it true,” demanded Miss Warren, “that you have a dog in your

bedroom?”

 

“Perfectly true,” replied Stephen flippantly.

 

“Take it out into the garage, at once.”

 

“Sorry. Can’t be did.”

 

Miss Warren lost her habitual calm.

 

“Mr. Rice,” she said, “understand me, please. I will not have an animal

in this house.” “That’s all right,” Stephen assured her. “I’ll push off

tonight, and take my dog with me.”

 

“Where will you go?” asked Newton, who—lounging, with his hands in his

pockets—was an appreciative spectator of the scene.

 

“Bull, of course. They’ll put me up—and—they’ll be proud to have the

pup.”

 

Simone gave a cry of protest.

 

“Don’t be so childish, Steve. You can’t go through this rain. You’d both

be soaked.”

 

Stephen weakened as he gazed through the open door at the fire, leaping

in the drawing room grate.

 

“I’ll stay if the pup stays,” he said. “If he goes, I go, too.”

 

“I’ll speak to the Professor,” cried Simone.

 

Her husband caught her by the arm.

 

“Don’t worry the Chief,” he said. “He’s about all in,”

 

Simone wrenched herself away and rushed into the study. Unlike the rest

of the household, she stood in no awe of the Professor. To her, he was

merely an elderly gentleman to whom she paid a certain deference as her

father-in-law.

 

In a few minutes, she appeared—her face radiant with triumph—to herald

the Professor.

 

“I understand,”