WYLDER'S HJJVD.
225
and (the Major still in the room) completed his toilet in
hot haste.
Honest Major Jackson was very uncomfortable. Of
course, Buddle could not give any sort of opinion upon a
case which he had not seen; but it described uglily, and
the Major consulted in broken hints, with an uneasy wink
or two, about a flight to Boulogne.
"Well, it will be no harm to be ready; but take no
step till I come back," said the Doctor, who had stuffed a
great roll of lint and plaster, and some other medicinals
into one pocket, and his case of instruments, forceps,
probe, scissors, and all the other steel and silver horrors,
into the other; so he strutted forth in his great coat un-
naturally broad about the hips; and the Major, "devil-
ish uncomfortable," accompanied him at a smart pace to
the great gate of Brandon.
Lord Chelford being an early man, was, notwithstand-
ing the ball of the preceding night, dressing, when St.
Ange, his Swiss servant, knocked at his door with a doz-
en pocket handkerchiefs, a bottle of eau-de-cologne, and
some other properties of his metier.
St. Ange could not wait until he had laid them down,
but broke out with —
Oh, mi Lor!—qu'est-il arrive?—,le pauvre capi-
taine! il est tue — il se meurt — he dies — d'un coup de
pistolet. He comes de se battre from beating himself in
duel — il a e'te atteint dans la poitrine — le pauvre gen-
tilhomme! of a blow of the pistol."
1 And so on, the young nobleman gathering the facts as
best he might.
"Is Larcom there?"
"In the gallery, mi Lor."
"Ask him to come in."
So Monsieur Larcom entered, and bowed ominously.
10*