“Oh, mercy! Oh, good people help me! Oh, Jesus Christ have pity on me!” And the sufferer's body was bent like a bow, and his eyes filled with horror, and his toes pointed at his chin.
The Doctor hurled himself on the foe. “Come,” said he, “smell to this, lad! That's right! He is better already, jintlemen, or he couldn't howl, ye know. Deevil a howl in um before I gave um puff chlorofm. Ah! would ye? would ye?”
The Doctor got off the insensible body, and resumed his lecture calmly, like one who has disposed of some childish interruption. “And now to th' application of the Therey: If the poison can reduce the tin minutes' interval to five minutes, this pashint will die; and if I can get the tin minutes up t' half hour, this pashint will live. Any way, jintlemen, we won't detain y' unreasonably: the case shall be at an end by one o'clock.”
On hearing this considerate stipulation, up went three women's aprons to their eyes.
“Alack! poor James Maxley! he is at his last hour: it be just gone twelve, and a dies at one.”
Sampson turned on the weepers. “Who says that, y' ijjits? I said the case would end at one: a case ends when the pashint gets well or dies.”
“Oh, that is good news for poor Susan Maxley; her man is to be well by one o'clock, Doctor says.”
Sampson groaned, and gave in. He was strong, but not strong enough to make the populance suspend an opinion.
Yet, methinks it might be done: by chloroforming them.
The spasms came at longer intervals and less violent, and Maxley got so fond of the essence of Insensibility, that he asked to have some in his own hand to apply at the first warning of the horrible pains.
Sampson said, “Any fool can complete the cure;” and, by way of practical comment, left him in Mr. Osmond's charge; but with an understanding that the treatment should not be varied; that no laudanum should be given; but, in due course, a stiff tumbler of brandy and water, or two. “If he gets drunk, all the better; a little intoxication weakens the body's memory of the pain it has endured, and so expedites the cure. Now off we go to th' other.”
“The body's memory!” said Mr. Osmond to himself: “what on earth does the quack mean?”
The driver _de jure_ of the fly was not quite drunk enough to lose his horse and vehicle without missing them. He was on the look out for the robber, and as Alfred came round the corner full pelt, darted at the reins with a husky remonstrance, and Alfred cut into him with the whip: an angry explanation--a guinea--and behold the driver sitting behind complacent and nodding.