The Coral Strand by Frances Murray

Author:Frances Murray [Murray, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2012-11-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

L’avarice est la mère de tous les maux.

Greed is the source of all evil-doing.

French proverb.

Ram, his white garments picked out by the flashes of lightning, slipped in behind the newcomer and ran to the window where he leaned out to close the shutters and bar them. The blue-white flashes forced themselves through the gaps between the planks and thunder still rolled but now the lamp could shine unrivalled and its gentle constant light took the nightmare quality from the room. The apparition became a tall diffident Scot in grimy breeches and ill-fitting boots and Goodfellow, a pace behind, seemed just a plain and commonplace young man and not a menace. Even the thunder seemed to be farther away.

“Farquhar,” Goodfellow said. “He’s been attending on your father.”

“Good evening, doctor,” Beatrix said and held out her hand.

“Miss Anstey?” asked the doctor for Goodfellow did not bother to complete the introduction. When she nodded he shook her hand briefly and briskly.

“I’d ha’ been here sooner but I was away when the laddie came and he’d to wait a wee while.”

He set down his bag and regarded Jonas.

“How’s the patient?”

“Very feverish,” Beatrix said.

“To be expected, I fear. Is he in any pain, can you discover?”

“No,” Jonas said, opening his eyes.

“Aha, so ye’re awake, are ye?”

“I am. No more of your jollop, Farquhar, I won’t be needing it.”

The doctor considered him and frowned.

“I haven’t much time left,” Jonas said. “Need to be awake and not dreaming.”

Farquhar looked at Beatrix.

“In your note....” he began.

“I know,” she interrupted. “But at the time I wrote that, he’d had a dose. A large dose. Now he is awake and if he doesn’t want it, he shan’t have it. He’s already had three quarters of what you left.”

Farquhar’s face stiffened and he turned on Goodfellow.

“Laudanum,” he said emphatically, “is not a drug to be used indiscriminately.”

“I agree,” Beatrix said.

“He was in pain,” protested Goodfellow angrily. “You said.....”

“Let me speak for myself,” Jonas interrupted. “Did I tell you I was in pain?”

“No. No, but anyone could see that....”

Faced by an employer, unexpectedly conscious and lucid, Goodfellow adopted a manner very different to that which he had used since Beatrix’s arrival. He was at once sullen and servile.

“Go away, Goodfellow,” Jonas said.

The clerk turned slowly on his heel and went to the door his face black with anger.

“...and leave that door open,” Jonas instructed.

Jonas’s voice was weak but there could be no doubt at all about what he meant. The clerk glared back at him for a moment, his mouth hanging open over the many teeth, then he went out and into his own room, banging the door behind him. Jonas closed his eyes, evidently exhausted by this exercise of his will. Farquhar jerked his head at Beatrix and they went away from the cot and stood by the window.

“Has he told you what’s amiss?”

“No. This is the first time he’s been really lucid. But I can see and feel there’s an infection. Trouble of long-standing, I think, for he’s much thinner than I realised.

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