The Conflict [69]
knees, made a rapid examination with expert hands. As he felt, one of the relighted torches suddenly lit up Victor's face and the faces of those bending over him.
``He is only stunned, Doctor,'' said Selma.
``I think so,'' replied the doctor.
``We left our carriage in the side street just over there,'' said Jane Hastings. ``It will take him to the hospital.''
``No--home,'' said Selma, who was calm. ``He must be taken home.''
``The hospital is the place for him,'' said the doctor.
``No--home,'' repeated Selma. She glanced at the men standing round. ``Tom--Henry--and you, Ed-- help me lift him.''
``Please, Selma,'' whispered Jane. ``Let him be taken to the hospital.''
``Among our enemies?'' said Selma with a strange and terrible little laugh. ``Oh, no. After this, we trust no one. They may have arranged to finish this night's work there. He goes home--doesn't he, boys?''
``That's right, Miss Gordon,'' replied one of them.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. ``Here's where I drop the case,'' said he.
``Nothing of the kind,'' cried Jane imperiously. ``I am Jane Hastings--Martin Hastings' daughter. You will come with us, please--or I shall see to it that you are not let off easily for such a shameful neglect of duty.''
``Let him go, Jane,'' said Selma. ``There will be a doctor waiting. And he is only stunned. Come, boys-- lift him up.''
They laid him on a bench top, softened with the coats of his followers. At the carriage, standing in Farwell Street, they laid him across the two seats. Selma got in with him. Tom Colman climbed to the box beside the coachman. Jane and Miss Clearwater, their escorts and about a score of the Leaguers followed on foot. As the little procession turned into Warner Street it was stopped by a policeman.
``Can't go down this way,'' he said.
``It's Mr. Dorn. We're taking him home. He was hurt,'' explained Colman.
``Fire lines. Street's closed,'' said the policeman gruffly.
Selma thrust her head out. ``We must get him home----''
``House across the street burning--and probably his house, too,'' cut in the policeman. ``He's been raising hell--he has. But it's coming home to him at last. Take him to the hospital.''
``Jane,'' cried Selma, ``make this man pass us!''
Jane faced the policeman, explained who she was. He became humbly civil at once. ``I've just told her, ma'am,'' said he, ``that his house is burning. The mob's gutting the New Day office and setting fire to everything.''
``My house is in the next street,'' said Colman. ``Drive there. Some of you people get Dr. Charlton-- and everything. Get busy. Whip up, driver. Here, give me the lines!''
Thus, within five minutes, Victor was lying upon a couch in the parlor of Colman's cottage, and within ten minutes Dr. Charlton was beside him and was at work. Selma and Jane and Mrs. Colman were in the room. The others--a steadily increasing crowd--were on the steps outside, in the front yard, were filling the narrow street. Colman had organized fifty Leaguers into a guard, to be ready for any emergencies. Over the tops of the low houses could be seen the vast cloud of smoke from the fire; the air was heavy with the odors of burning wood; faintly came sounds of engines, of jubilant drunken shouts.
``A fracture of the skull and of the jaw-bone. Not necessarily serious,'' was Dr. Charlton's verdict.
The young man, unconscious, ghastly pale, with his thick hair mussed about his brow and on the right side clotted with blood, lay breathing heavily. Ellen Clearwater came in and Mrs. Colman whispered to her the doctor's cheering statement. She went to Jane and said in an undertone:
``We can go now, Jane. Come on.''
Jane seemed not to hear. She was regarding the face of the young man on the couch.
Ellen touched her arm. ``We're intruding on these people,'' she whispered. ``Let's go. We've done all we can.''
Selma did not hear, but she saw and understood.
``Yes--you'd better go, Jane,'' she said. ``Mrs. Colman and I will do everything
``He is only stunned, Doctor,'' said Selma.
``I think so,'' replied the doctor.
``We left our carriage in the side street just over there,'' said Jane Hastings. ``It will take him to the hospital.''
``No--home,'' said Selma, who was calm. ``He must be taken home.''
``The hospital is the place for him,'' said the doctor.
``No--home,'' repeated Selma. She glanced at the men standing round. ``Tom--Henry--and you, Ed-- help me lift him.''
``Please, Selma,'' whispered Jane. ``Let him be taken to the hospital.''
``Among our enemies?'' said Selma with a strange and terrible little laugh. ``Oh, no. After this, we trust no one. They may have arranged to finish this night's work there. He goes home--doesn't he, boys?''
``That's right, Miss Gordon,'' replied one of them.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. ``Here's where I drop the case,'' said he.
``Nothing of the kind,'' cried Jane imperiously. ``I am Jane Hastings--Martin Hastings' daughter. You will come with us, please--or I shall see to it that you are not let off easily for such a shameful neglect of duty.''
``Let him go, Jane,'' said Selma. ``There will be a doctor waiting. And he is only stunned. Come, boys-- lift him up.''
They laid him on a bench top, softened with the coats of his followers. At the carriage, standing in Farwell Street, they laid him across the two seats. Selma got in with him. Tom Colman climbed to the box beside the coachman. Jane and Miss Clearwater, their escorts and about a score of the Leaguers followed on foot. As the little procession turned into Warner Street it was stopped by a policeman.
``Can't go down this way,'' he said.
``It's Mr. Dorn. We're taking him home. He was hurt,'' explained Colman.
``Fire lines. Street's closed,'' said the policeman gruffly.
Selma thrust her head out. ``We must get him home----''
``House across the street burning--and probably his house, too,'' cut in the policeman. ``He's been raising hell--he has. But it's coming home to him at last. Take him to the hospital.''
``Jane,'' cried Selma, ``make this man pass us!''
Jane faced the policeman, explained who she was. He became humbly civil at once. ``I've just told her, ma'am,'' said he, ``that his house is burning. The mob's gutting the New Day office and setting fire to everything.''
``My house is in the next street,'' said Colman. ``Drive there. Some of you people get Dr. Charlton-- and everything. Get busy. Whip up, driver. Here, give me the lines!''
Thus, within five minutes, Victor was lying upon a couch in the parlor of Colman's cottage, and within ten minutes Dr. Charlton was beside him and was at work. Selma and Jane and Mrs. Colman were in the room. The others--a steadily increasing crowd--were on the steps outside, in the front yard, were filling the narrow street. Colman had organized fifty Leaguers into a guard, to be ready for any emergencies. Over the tops of the low houses could be seen the vast cloud of smoke from the fire; the air was heavy with the odors of burning wood; faintly came sounds of engines, of jubilant drunken shouts.
``A fracture of the skull and of the jaw-bone. Not necessarily serious,'' was Dr. Charlton's verdict.
The young man, unconscious, ghastly pale, with his thick hair mussed about his brow and on the right side clotted with blood, lay breathing heavily. Ellen Clearwater came in and Mrs. Colman whispered to her the doctor's cheering statement. She went to Jane and said in an undertone:
``We can go now, Jane. Come on.''
Jane seemed not to hear. She was regarding the face of the young man on the couch.
Ellen touched her arm. ``We're intruding on these people,'' she whispered. ``Let's go. We've done all we can.''
Selma did not hear, but she saw and understood.
``Yes--you'd better go, Jane,'' she said. ``Mrs. Colman and I will do everything