His only counselor at that critical moment was his cunning;stimulated into action by the closely related motive powers of his inbred vanity,and his devotion to the benefactress whom he loved.
The chance of being discovered by Madame Fontaine never entered into his calculations.He cared nothing whether she discovered him or not--he had got the bottle,and woe to her if she tried to take it away from him!
What he really dreaded was,that the housekeeper might deprive him of the glory of saving Mrs.Wagner's life,if she found out what had happened.
She might follow him to the bedside;she might claim the blue-glass bottle as her property;she might say,"I saved Mr.Keller;and now Ihave saved Mrs.Wagner.This little man is only the servant who gave the dose,which any other hand might have poured out in his place."Until these considerations occurred to him,his purpose had been to announce his wonderful discovery publicly at Mrs.Wagner's bedside.This intention he now abandoned,without hesitation.He saw a far more inviting prospect before him.What a glorious position for him it would be,if he watched his opportunity of administering the life-giving liquid privately--if he waited till everybody was astonished at the speedy recovery of the suffering woman--and then stood up before them all,and proclaimed himself as the man who had restored her to health!
He replaced the chest,and locked the cupboard;taking the key away with him.Returning to the door,he listened intently to make sure that nobody was outside,and kept the blue-glass bottle hidden under his coat when he ventured at last to leave the room.He reached the other wing of the house,and ascended the second flight of stairs,without interruption of any kind.Safe again in his own room,he watched through the half-opened door.
Before long,Doctor Dormann and the surgeon appeared,followed by Mr.
Keller.The three went downstairs together.On the way,the Doctor mentioned that he had secured a nurse for the night.
Still keeping the bottle concealed,Jack knocked softly at the door,and entered Mrs.Wagner's room.
He first looked at the bed.She lay still and helpless,noticing nothing;to all appearance,poor soul,a dying woman.The servant was engaged in warming something over the fire.She shook her head gloomily,when Jack inquired if any favorable change had place in his absence.He sat down,vainly trying to discover how he might find the safe opportunity of which he was in search.
The slow minutes followed each other.After a little while the woman-servant looked at the clock."It's time Mrs.Wagner had her medicine,"she remarked,still occupied with her employment at the fire.
Jack saw his opportunity in those words."Please let me give the medicine,"he said.
"Bring it here,"she answered;"I mustn't trust anybody to measure it out.
"Surely I can give it to her,now it's ready?"Jack persisted.
The woman handed the glass to him."I can't very well leave what I am about,"she said."Mind you are careful not to spill any of it.She's as patient as a lamb,poor creature.If she can only swallow it,she won't give you any trouble."Jack carried the glass round to the farther side of the bed,so as to keep the curtains as a screen between himself and the fire-place.He softly dropped out the contents of the glass on the carpet,and filled it again from the bottle concealed under his coat.Waiting a moment after that,he looked towards the door.What if the housekeeper came in,and saw the blue-glass bottle?He snatched it up--an empty bottle now--and put it in the side-pocket of his coat,and arranged his handkerchief so as to hide that part of it which the pocket was not deep enough to conceal."Now!"he thought to himself,"now I may venture!"He gently put his arm round Mrs.Wagner,and raised her on the pillow.
"Your medicine,dear Mistress,"he whispered."You will take it from poor Jack,won't you?"The sense of hearing still remained.Her vacant eyes turned towards him by slow degrees.No outward expression answered to her thought;she could show him that she submitted,and she could do no more.
He dashed away the tears that blinded him.Supported by the firm belief that he was saving her life,he took the glass from the bedside-table and put it to her lips.
With painful efforts,with many intervals of struggling breath,she swallowed the contents of the glass,by a few drops at a time.He held it up under the shadowed lamplight,and saw that it was empty.
As he laid her head back on the pillows,he ventured to touch her cold cheek with his lips."Has she taken it?"the woman asked.He was just able to answer "Yes"--just able to look once more at the dear face on the pillow.The tumult of contending emotions,against which he had struggled thus far,overpowered his utmost resistance.He ran to hide the hysterical passion in him,forcing its way to relief in sobs and cries,on the landing outside.
In the calmer moments that followed,the fear still haunted him that Madame Fontaine might discover the empty compartment in the medicine-chest--might search every room in the house for the lost bottle--and might find it empty.Even if he broke it,and threw the fragments into the dusthole,the fragments might be remarked for their beautiful blue color,and the discovery might follow.Where could he hide it?
While he was still trying to answer that question,the hours of business came to an end,and the clerks were leaving the offices below.He heard them talking about the hard frost as they went out.One of them said there were blocks of ice floating down the river already.The river!It was within a few minutes'walk of the house.Why not throw the bottle into the river?
He waited until there was perfect silence below,and then stole downstairs.As he opened the door,a strange man met him,ascending the house-steps,with a little traveling bag in his hand.
"Is this Mr.Keller's?"asked the strange man.