SEARCH
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Prev | Current Page 268 | Next

Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Stark Munro Letters"

It was evident to me at a
glance that the responsibility which I had taken upon
myself was to be no light one.
However, we could but do our best. I undressed him
and got him safely to bed, while Miss Williams prepared
some arrowroot for his supper. He would eat nothing,
however, but seemed more disposed to dose, so having seen
him settle down we left him. His room was the one next
to mine, and as the wall was thin, I could hear the least
movement. Two or three times he muttered and groaned,
but finally he became quiet, and I was able to drop to
sleep.
At three in the morning, I was awakened by a dreadful
crash. Bounding out of bed I rushed into the other room.
Poor Fred was standing in his long gown, a pathetic
little figure in the grey light of the dawning day. He
had pulled over his washing-stand (with what object only
his bemuddled mind could say), and the whole place was a
morass of water with islands of broken crockery. I
picked him up and put him back into his bed again--
his body glowing through his night-dress, and his eyes
staring wildly about him. It was evidently impossible to
leave him, and so I spent the rest of the night nodding
and shivering in the armchair. No, it was certainly not
a sinecure that I had undertaken.
In the morning I went round to Mrs. La Force and gave
her a bulletin. Her brother had recovered his serenity
now that the patient had left.


Pages:
256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280