style="font-size:15px;"> “Then why didn’t you drive me home?” cried Chester, angrily.
“S’elp me! I like that! – I did; and no one was sittin’ up for yer; I knocked and rung for ’bout arf an hour before the old chap shoved up the winder and began a-cussin’ and a-swearin’ at me awful.”
“What old chap?” faltered Chester in his amaze.
“Your old guv’nor, I s’pose; and he wouldn’t come down, and told me to drive you to the ‘oh no, we never mentions him!’ for you warn’t coming in there. Then he bangs down the winder, and I waited ten minutes for him to get cool, and then knocks and rings again. This time he shoves up the winder and swears he’d shoot at me if I warn’t off; and as I got set agen ’orspittles ever since I was there for two months, I got up on the box again and drove off, for there was a bobby coming up; and I’ve been driving you about ever since.”
“Driving me about ever since?”
“That’s so, sir. We’ve been round Belgrave Square about a dozen times, and I was just going to drive you back to our stables, where it ain’t quite so wet, when you downed the window.”
“I can’t grasp it,” said Chester, hoarsely.
“Oh, never you mind about that, sir; you’ll be all right soon. You see, beggin’ your pardon, you was precious tight, and your friend had all he could do to hold you up. ‘Just like a jelly, kebby,’ he says; and you was, sir. Your legs doubled up like a two-foot rule with a weak jynte.”
“My friend!” cried Chester, snatching at that as something to cling to. “Who was that?”
“That’s what I’m a-telling you, sir. Your friend – ”
“But what sort of a person was it?”
“Big, stout young fellow, like a Lifeguardsman, but a real gent. Very jovial sort. ‘Take great keer of him, kebby,’ he says, and he tipped me a quid. ‘Help him up the steps when you get him home.’ ‘Right you are, sir,’ I says, as soon as I’d shut you up. ‘But wheer to?’ ‘Thirty-three Chrissal Square, Chelsea,’ he says, and there I drove you, and there you’d be, only your guv’nor cut up so rough.”
“Chrissal Square, Chelsea?” cried Chester, eagerly.
“That’s it, sir.”
“Why didn’t he tell you Raybeck Square?”
“Dunno, I’m sure, sir. That’s where all the doctors is.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Didn’t think you was bad enough, I s’pose, sir. And you ain’t. You on’y want a drop to clear your head a bit.”
“Drive me to Raybeck Square, thirty-four, at once.”
“Won’t you have a drop of something first, sir? Do you more good than going to a doctor’s, and me, too.”
“No, no, absurd. But one moment. You said Piccadilly Circus?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“And my friend helped me into the cab, and paid you to drive me home?”
“That’s it, sir. You’re getting it now – all by heart.”
“A tall, stout gentleman?”
“Well, not exactly that, sir. I don’t mean a fat ’un with a big weskit. A reg’lar strong-built un.”
“I can’t grasp it,” muttered Chester. Then aloud, – “But why did he tell you to drive me to the wrong house?”
“Bit on too, sir. Arter dinner. Did it for a lark, p’ra’ps.”
“Drive me home,” said Chester, sinking back. “I can’t recollect a bit.”
“Course you can’t, sir. Better have a hair o’ the dog as bit you.”
“No, no. There, I’ll give you a glass of brandy when we get back.”
“Suppose your guv’nor won’t let you in, sir?”
“Nonsense, man. I have a latch-key.”
“Wish I’d ha’ knowed it,” muttered the man, as he tried to close the door; “blessed if I wouldn’t ha’ picked your pocket of it and risked it I’d ha’ carried you into the passage, and chanced it. Blister the door, how it sticks!” he growled, as he banged it to, the jerk raising the glass, and it dropped down. “Chrissal Square, sir?”
“No, no, Raybeck Square; and make haste out of the rain.”
“Oh, I’m as wet as I can be, sir, and it don’t matter now,” grumbled the man, as he ascended to the box, and once more the maddening rattle and jangle began.
Chester’s head was as blank as ever with regard to the past when the cab drew up at his home, but it was perfectly clear as to the present, and he was still hard at work trying to make out where he had been dining, with whom, and how it was possible for him to have so far forgotten himself as to have drunk till he was absolutely imbecile, when the man opened the door.
“One moment; my latch-key. Yes; all right, I said I’d give you a glass of brandy.”
“You did, sir, and welkum it’ll be as the flowers o’ May. Jump out quick, sir, and run up the steps, for it’s all one big shower bath.”
“Can you leave your horse?”
“Leave him, sir?” said the man, with a chuckle; “for a month. He’s got hoofs like hanchors. But I will hitch his nose-bag on, and let him see if he can find that there oat he was a-’untin’ for in the chaff last time he had it on.”
The next minute Chester was inside, with his head throbbing; but he was not so giddy, and his first glance was at the hall clock, illumined by the half turned down gas.
“Four o’clock,” he muttered. “How strange!”
“May I come inside, sir? Horse’ll be all right if there don’t come a bobby prowling round. If he ain’t a fool he’ll be under someone’s doorway, for there ain’t likely to be no burgling a time like this.”
“Shut the door, and come in here,” said Chester, shortly; and he led the way into his consulting-room, turned up the gas, and from a closet took a decanter and glass, filled the latter for the cabman, who was making a pool on the thick carpet, and then poured himself out a few drops from a small-stoppered bottle, added some water from a table filter, and tossed off the mixture.
“Thank you, sir, and hope that there’ll do you as much good as this here’s done me a’ready. Didn’t know you was a doctor.”
“Here’s a crown for you,” said Chester, taking the money from a little drawer.
“Five bob! Oh, thank ye, sir,” said the man, with a grin. “Makes a fellow feel quite dry. Sorry for your carpet, sir. Good-mornin’. I don’t think I want another fare.”
As the door was closed after the man, the potent drops Chester had taken began
