In the hollow by the park wall it appeared again,
distinctly; and here it was plain the transit of the
wall had been made, for the traces of the mud were
evident enough upon its surface, and the mortar at
top was displaced, and a little tuft of grass in the
mud, left by the clodded shoesole. Here the fellow
had got over.
They followed, and, despairing of finding it upon
the road, they diverged into the narrow slip of ground
by the river bank, and just within the park-gate,
in a slight hollow, the clay of which was still impressible,
they found the track again. It led close up to
the river bank, and there the villain seemed to have
come to a stand still; for the sod just for so much
as a good sized sheet of letter-paper might cover,
was trod and broken, as if at the water’s edge
he had stood for a while, and turned about and shifted
his feet, like a fellow that is uneasy while he is
stationary.
From this stand-point they failed to discover any
receding foot-print; but close by it came a little
horse track, covered with shingle, by which, in those
days, the troops used to ride their horses to water.
He might have stepped upon this, and following it,
taken to the streets; or he might—and this
was Lowe’s theory—have swam the river
at this point, and got into some of those ruffian
haunts in the rear of Watling and St. James’s
streets. So Lowe, who, with a thief or a murderer
in the wind, had the soul of a Nimrod, rode round
to the opposite bank, first telling Toole, who did
not care to press his services at Sturk’s house,
uninvited, that he would send out the great Doctor
Pell to examine the patient, or the body, as the case
might turn out.
By this time they were carrying Doctor Sturk—that
gaudy and dismal image—up his own staircase—his
pale wife sobbing and shivering on the landing, among
whispered ejaculations from the maids, and the speechless
wonder of the awe-stricken children, staring through
the banisters—to lay him in the bed where
at last he is to lie without dreaming.
IN WHICH MISS MAGNOLIA MACNAMARA AND DR. TOOLE, IN
DIFFERENT SCENES, PROVE THEMSELVES GOOD SAMARITANS;
AND THE GREAT DOCTOR PELL MOUNTS THE STAIRS OF THE
HOUSE BY THE CHURCH-YARD.
So pulse or no pulse, dead or alive, they got Sturk
into his bed.
Poor, cowed, quiet little Mrs. Sturk, went quite wild
at the bedside.
‘Oh! my Barney—my Barney—my
noble Barney,’ she kept crying. ’He’s
gone—he’ll never speak again.
Do you think he hears? Oh, Barney, my darling—Barney,
it’s your own poor little Letty—oh—Barney,
darling, don’t you hear. It’s your
own poor, foolish Letty.’
But it was the same stern face, and ears of stone.
There was no answer and no sign.
And she sent a pitiful entreaty to Doctor Toole, who
came very good-naturedly—and indeed he
was prowling about the doorway of his domicile in
expectation of the summons. And he shook her very
cordially by the hand, and quite ‘filled-up,’
at her woebegone appeal, and told her she must not
despair yet.
