The Quiet Gentleman

Mr. Leek, when he found himself deserted by his employer, and with an unconscious lady on his hands, became a little flustered. Several agitated shouts for help having elicited no response, he knelt down, somewhat ponderously, beside Miss Morville, and tried to ascertain whether she was alive, or whether she had, as he was much inclined to fear, broken her neck. He was not without experience in such matters, and after he had cautiously raised her head, he felt reasonably assured that this ultimate disaster had not befallen her. He could not discover that she was breathing, but after a good deal of fumbling he managed to find the pulse in her wrist. It was certainly beating, so, heaving a sigh of considerable relief, he rose, puffing, to his feet, and went off to ring the iron bell which hung beside the entrance-doors. So vigorously did he tug at it that its summons brought not only a footman, but Abney also, hurrying from the servants’ quarters. It then became manifest to Mr. Leek that although the domestic staff might, if suitably adjured, render assistance, no constructive effort need be expected. Abney was so much appalled that he seemed unable to do anything but wring his hands, and demand distractedly what was to be done; and the footman merely waited for orders.

“The first thing as has to be done,” said Mr. Leek, “is to take and carry her to a sofy! You catch hold of her head, young feller, and I’ll take her feet!”

“Ought she to be moved?” Abney asked nervously. “Oh dear, oh dear, she’s very pale!”

“Well, don’t start to nap your bib!” said Mr. Leek, with a touch of asperity. “Anyone would look pale as was gone off into a swound! Her neck ain’t broke, that I do know, so that’s a comfort, anyways. If you was to lope off and fetch a female to her, you’d be doing more good than what you are now, standing about as like as ninepence to nothing, and asking whether she ought to be moved! O’ course she ought! Nice thing it would be if we was to leave a swell mort like she is laying about at the bottom of the stairs for anyone to tread on as wasn’t looking where they was going! Now, you lift your end, young feller, and gently does it!”

Thus encouraged, the footman carefully raised Miss Morville’s shoulders from the floor. Between them, he and Mr. Leek bore her into the Great Hall, and laid her down on one of the sofas. The footman thought she would be more comfortable if he placed a cushion beneath her head; Abney hovered about, wondering whether he should fetch the housekeeper, feathers, or a glass of water; and Mr. Leek, with great delicacy, smoothed Miss Morville’s dress carefully about her ankles. Having informed Abney that persons in her condition stood in more need of eye-water than Adam’s Ale, he told the footman to call Mrs. Marple, and made a discovery. Miss Morville had broken her arm.

“Well,” said Mr. Leek philosophically, as he disposed the limb across her bosom, “that’s what you might call Dutch comfort, because it might ha’ been worse.”

“I will send a message to the stables at once!” said Abney. “One of the grooms must ride for the doctor! Oh dear, I am sure I don’t know what has come over Stanyon! It seems to be one thing after another!”

He then hurried away; and after a considerable lapse of time, during which Mr. Leek first fanned Miss Morville, and then, with some misgiving, wondered whether he ought to cut her laces, the housekeeper, who had been enjoying a nap in her room, bustled in, armed with smelling-salts and sal volatile, and followed by a couple of chambermaids. Mr. Leek would have been glad to have resigned Miss Morville to their care, but after he had watched Mrs. Marple’s singularly unsuccessful attempts to administer a dose of sal volatile, and had forcefully dissuaded one of the chambermaids from moving the broken arm, for the amiable purpose of chafing Miss Morville’s hand, he decided that it was not the part of a chivalrous man to abandon his post.

By the time Abney came fluttering back to the Great Hall, several more persons had assembled there, including Turvey; and the housekeeper, alarmed by Miss Morville’s prolonged swoon, was threatening spasms.

“I fancy, Mrs. Marple, that she may have sustained a blow on the head,” said Turvey. “Pray do not become agitated! It frequently happens, in such cases, that the sufferer does not regain consciousness for some appreciable time.”

“Ah! And sometimes, when they do,they find themselves dicked in the nob!” said Mr. Leek. “Addled!” he explained, for the benefit of one of the maids, who was looking at him in frightened enquiry.

Mrs. Marple gave a faint scream, and pressed a hand to her bosom. Mr. Leek thoughtfully offered her the sal volatile; and Turvey said, with a superiority his more forthright colleague found odious, that he apprehended no such melancholy sequel to the accident.