Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century
they did not suit. The one he got was a girl about twenty. Her name
was Sarah Something. I did not think much of her. I used sometimes
to think my tea and sugar went very fast. I never caught her taking
anything. She was very quiet and civil-spoken. She stayed with the
gentleman about a month; not quite. She was sent away for giving the
lady a dose of physic in her arrow-root to make her sick. The lady was
very bad indeed. We thought she would have died. She was dreadfully
sick, and had the cholera awfully bad. This was the 9th of December.[3]
I know it from my books. The gentleman sent out for brandy and several
things, and they are down in my book. On the following morning he sent
for some stuff from the chemist.[4] Before that he had given her some
medicine himself. I don't know what it was. He had a lot of chemicals
and things. He kept them in a back room. The lady had a doctor. Not at
first. Not till the Monday after she was ill. I asked him to send for
one, but he said he was a doctor himself. She continued very ill, and
on the Sunday night I asked him again. He said if she was not better
next morning, he would. I wanted him to send for Dr. Pesketh or Dr.
Thompson, but he would not. He said they were no good. I have always
heard them very highly spoken of. Dr. Pesketh I have always heard of
as a first-rate doctor. He is since dead. Dr. Thompson is a very good
doctor, too; but Dr. Pesketh, perhaps, had most practice. I don't think
the gentleman knew anything about either of them. He sent for a Doctor
Jones, who was in lodgings in the Steyne. I believe he lived in London.
He prescribed for the lady while he stayed in Bognor. He went away
the week after. He was only there a fortnight. The gentleman heard of
him through a friend of mine in the Steyne. He asked me to find out
whether there was no London doctor in the place. He would not have any
one who belonged to the place. He said country doctors were no good.
The lady got better, but very slowly. She was ill several weeks. When
she was strong enough they went away. He was very attentive to her.
Never left her alone for a minute hardly. She did not seem very fond
of him. I think she was afraid of him, but I don't know why. He was
very kind to her, and always particularly civil. Sometimes she seemed
quite put out like by his civility. I thought sometimes she would have
flown out at him. She never did fly out. He always seemed able to stop
her. I don't know how he did it. He never said anything; only looked
at her; but it was quite enough. I thought she must have been doing
something wrong, and he had brought her to Bognor to be out of the way.
I do not know exactly what made me think so. It was the way they went
on, and what he said to me. He never told me so. It was from things he
said. I did not talk much to the lady. I thought her very ungrateful
when he was so kind. Then she was hardly ever alone. Only once when
the gentleman went out for something. Then she was left about an hour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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