"Deary me, deary me, drink this, my good gentleman. It'll do you a mort o' good. It's brandy."
"Water--bring me water," said Paul Ritson, feebly; "I'm parched."
"And no light 'un to lift, neither," said the driver. "Does he live here, missis?"
Mrs. Drayton brought a glass of water. Paul drained it to the last drop.
"No, sir; I mean yes, driver," said the landlady, confusedly.
"He warn't so bad getting in," the driver observed.
"Oh, dear, oh, dear! where is Mr. Christian--Parson Christian?" said Mercy, whose distracted eyes wandered around.
"The gentleman's come, sir; he's upstairs, sir," said the landlady, and, muttering to herself, Mrs. Drayton hobbled away.
Paul Ritson's head had fallen on his breast. His hat was off, and his hair tumbled over his face. The strong man sat coiled up on the bench. Then he shook himself and threw up his head, as if trying to cast off the weight of stupor that sat on him.
"Well, well! who'd have thought of this? Water--more water!" he mumbled in a thick voice.
Mercy stood before him with a glass in her hand.
"Is it good for him, I wonder?" she said. "Oh, where is Mr. Christian?"
Paul Ritson saw the glass, clutched at it with both hands, then smiled a poor, weak smile, as if to atone for his violence, and drank every drop.
"Well, well!--so hot--and dizzy--and cold!" he muttered, incoherently.
Then he relapsed into silence. After a moment, the driver, who was supporting him at the back, looked over at his face. The eyes were closed, and the lips were hanging.
"He's gone off unconscious," said the flyman. "Ain't ye got a bed handy?"
At that moment Mrs. Drayton came hastily down-stairs, in a fever of agitation.
"You've got to get him up to his room," she said, between gusts of breath.
"That's a job for two men, ain't it, missis?" said the driver.
Mercy had loosened Paul's collar, and with a nervous hand she was bathing his burning forehead.
"Oh, tell Mr. Christian," she said; "say he has fainted."
Mrs. Drayton hobbled back. In another instant there was a man's step descending the stairs. Hugh Ritson entered the bar. He looked down at the unconscious man and felt his pulse. "When did this happen?" he asked, turning to Mercy.
"He said he was feeling ill when I met him; then he was worse in the train, and when we reached Hendon he was too dizzy to stand," said Mercy.