"I say, mester," said a heavy voice as the doctor opened the door. It
was not Brindley, but Jos Myatt. Unable to locate the bell-push in the
dark, he had characteristically attacked the sole illuminated window. He
demanded, or he commanded, very curtly, that the doctor should go up
instantly to the Foaming Quart at Toft End.
Stirling hesitated a moment.
"All right, my man," said he, calmly.
"Now?" the heavy, suspicious voice on the doorstep insisted.
"I'll be there before ye if ye don't sprint, man. I'll run up in the
car." Stirling shut the door. I heard footsteps on the gravel path
outside.
"Ye heard?" said he to me. "And what am I to do with ye?"
"I'll go with you, of course," I answered.
"I may be kept up there a while."
"I don't care," I said roisterously. "It's a pub and I'm a traveller."
Stirling's household was in bed and his assistant gone home. While he
and Titus got out the car I wrote a line for the Brindleys: "Gone with
doctor to see patient at Toft End. Don't wait up.--A.L." This we pushed
under Brindley's front door on our way forth. Very soon we were
vibrating up a steep street on the first speed of the car, and the
yellow reflections of distant furnaces began to shine over house roofs
below us.
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