The Ragged Edge Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  The astonishing collapse of Spurlock created a tableau of shortduration. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply,and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room. Witha gesture which was without any kind of emotional expression, themanager indicated the silent crumpled figure on the floor and gavethe room number. The Chinamen raised the limp body and carried itto the hall staircase, up which they mounted laboriously.

  "A doctor at once!" cried Ruth excitedly.

  "A doctor? What he needs is a good jolt of aromatic spirits ofammonia. I can get that at the bar," the manager said, curtly. Hewas not particularly grateful for the present situation.

  "I warn you, if you do not send for a doctor immediately, you willhave cause to regret it," Ruth declared vigorously. "Something morethan whisky did that. Why did you let him have it?"

  "Let him have it? I can't stand at the elbow of any of the guestsand regulate his or her actions. So long as a man behaves himself,I can't refuse him liquor. But I'll call a doctor, since you orderit. You'll be wasting his time. It is a plain case of alcoholicstupor. I've seen many cases like it."

  He summoned another "boy" and rumbled some Cantonese. Immediatelythe "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as heran--warning to clear the way.

  "Have the aromatic spirits of ammonia sent to Mr. Taber's room atonce," Ruth ordered. "I will administer it."

  "You, Miss Enschede?"--frankly astonished that one stranger shouldoffer succour to another.

  "There is nobody else. Someone ought to be with him until thedoctor arrives. He may die."

  The manager made a negative sign. "Your worry is needless."

  "It wasn't the fumes of whisky that toppled him out of his chair.It was his heart. I once saw a man die after collapsing that way."

  "You once saw a man die that way?" the manager echoed, his recentpuzzlement returning full tide. Hartford, Connecticut; she hadregistered that address; but there was something so mystifyinglyOriental about her that the address only thickened the haze behindwhich she moved. "Where?"

  "That can wait," she answered. "Please hurry the ammonia;" and Ruthturned away abruptly.

  Above she found the two Chinamen squatted at the side of the door.They rose as she approached. She hastened past. She immediatelytook the pillows from under the head of the man who had two names,released the collar and tie, and arranged the arms alongside thebody. His heart was beating, but faintly and slowly, with ominousintermissions. All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived ordied.

  She was now permitted freely to study the face. The comparisonsupon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed withreality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction.The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of thesailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. For the face underher gaze she could find but one expression--fine. The shape of thehead, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose,the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she hadnever before looked upon closely.

  She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth andunlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. Still,something had marked the face, something had left an indelibletouch. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gaveher this impression. What reassured her, however, more thananything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned.The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; itbecomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. It was not inevidence here, not a sign of it.

  A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. And yet it was basically afine action. To buy the freedom of a poor little Chinese slave-girl!For what was the sing-song girl but a slave, the double slave ofcustom and of men? Ruth wanted to know keenly what had impelled theidea. Had he been trying to stop the grim descent, and had he dimlyperceived that perhaps a fine deed would serve as the initialbarrier? A drunken idea--a pearl in the midst of a rubbish heap.That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him!

  Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions,numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own firstutterance of the word. Why wasn't the world full of love, when lovemade happiness? Why did people hide their natural kindliness as ifit were something shameful? Why shouldn't people say what theythought and act as they were inclined? Why all this pother aboutwhat one's neighbour thought, when this pother was not energized byany good will? Why was truth avoided as the plague? Why did thisyoung man have one name on the hotel register and another on hislips? Why was she bothering about him at all? Why should there bethis inexplicable compassion, when the normal sensation should havebeen repellance? Sidney Carton. Was that it? Had she clothed thisunhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone?She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what reallyactuated her.

  Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; andit might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness ifhe found a woman at his bedside. More than this, it would serve tomitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily withhis.

  She drew up a chair and sat down, putting her palm on the damp,cold forehead. A bad sign; it signified that the heart action wasin a precarious state. So far he had not stirred; from hisbloodless lips had come no sound.

  At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeededin getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down thepatient's throat. But nothing followed to indicate that the liquidhad stimulated the heart.

  "You see?" Ruth said.

  The manager conceded that he saw, that his original diagnosis wasat fault. Superimposed was the agitating thought of what wouldfollow the death of this unwelcome guest: confusion, pokingauthorities, British and American red tape. It would send businesselsewhere; and the hotel business in Canton was never so prosperousthat one could afford to lose a single guest. Clientele was of themost transitory character.

  And then, there would be the question of money. Would there beenough in the young man's envelope to pay the doctor and the hotelbill--and in the event of his death, enough to ship the body home?So all things pointed to the happy circumstance of setting thisyoung fool upon his feet again, of seeing him hence upon hisjourney. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

  An hour later the doctor arrived; and after a thorough examination,he looked doubtful.

  "He is dying?" whispered Ruth.

  "Well, without immediate care he would have passed out. He's on theragged edge. It depends upon what he was before he began thisracket. Drink, and no sustaining food. But while there's lifethere's hope. There isn't a nurse this side of Hong-Kong to be had.I've only a Chinaman who is studying under me; but he's a goodsport and will help us out during the crisis. This chap's recoveryall depends upon the care he receives."

  Out of nowhere Ruth heard her voice saying: "I will see to that."

  "Your husband?"

  "No. I do not even know his name."

  The doctor sent her a sharp, quizzical glance. He could not quitemake her out; a new type.

  "Taber," said the manager; "Taber is the name."

  For some reason she did not then understand, Ruth did not offer theinformation that Taber had another name.

  "This is very fine of you, Miss...."

  "Enschede."

  "Ah. Well, come back in half an hour. I'll send for Wu Fang. Hespeaks English. Not a job he may care about; but he's a good sport.The hard work will be his, until we yank this young fellow backfrom the brink. Run along now; but return in half an hour."

  The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but withalert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. He smiled at Ruth as she turnedaway from the bed, smiled with both his mouth and eyes; and sheknew that here would be a man of heart as well as of science. Shewent out into the hall, where she met the Jedsons in their kimonos.

  "What has happened?" asked Sister Prudence. "We've heard coming andgoing."

  "Mr. Taber is very ill.
"

  "Oh." Prudence shrugged. "Well, what can you expect, guzzlingpoison like that? Are you returning with us to Hong-Kong in themorning?"

  "No. I am going to help take care of him," said Ruth, quiteordinarily, as though taking care of unknown derelicts was anordinary event in her life.

  "What?--help take care of him? Why, you can't do that, MissEnschede!" was the protest.

  "Why can't I?"

  "You will be compromised. It isn't as if he were stricken withtyphoid or pneumonia or something like that. You will certainly becompromised."

  "Compromised." Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of aquery, but ruminantly. "Mutual concessions," she added. "I don'tquite understand the application."

  Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what wasexpected of her. Sister Angelina shook her head as if to say thatsuch ignorance was beyond her.

  "Why, it means that people will think evilly of you."

  "For a bit of kindness?" Ruth was plainly bewildered.

  "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. "I neversaw the like of you! One has to guard one's actions constantly inthis wicked world, if one is a woman, young and pretty. A womansuch as I am might help take care of Mr. Taber and no one commentupon it. But you couldn't. Never in this world! Let the hotelpeople take care of him; it's their affair. They sold him thewhisky. Come along with us in the morning. Your father...."

  Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought cameto her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhapsstill was, in the same category as this Taber.

  "It's a fine idea, my child, but you mustn't do it. Even if he werean old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. But a total stranger,a man you never saw twenty-four hours ago! It can't be thought of.It isn't your duty."

  "I feel bewildered," said Ruth. "Is it wrong, then, to surrender togood impulses?"

  "In the present instance, yes. Can't I make you understand? Perhapsit sounds cruel to you; but we women often have to be crueldefensively. You don't want people to snub you later. This isn'tyour island, child; it's the great world."

  "So I perceive," said Ruth, withdrawing her hands. "He is allalone. Without care he will die."

  "But, goodness me, the hotel will take care of him! Why not? Theysold him the poison. Besides, I have my doubts that he is so verysick. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all overagain. You're alone, too, child. I'm trying to make you see theworldly point of view, which always inclines toward the evil sideof things."

  "I have promised. After all, why should I care what strangersthink?" Ruth asked with sudden heat. "Is there no charity? Isn't itunderstood?"

  "Of course it is! In the present instance I can offer it and youcan't, or shouldn't. There are unwritten laws governing humanconduct. Who invented them? Nobody knows. But woe to those whodisregard them! Of course, basically it is all wrong; and sometimesGod must laugh at our ideas of rectitude. But to live at peace withyour neighbour...."

  Ruth brushed her eyes with one hand and with the other signed forthe spinster to stop. "No more, please! I am bewildered enough. Iunderstand nothing of what you say. I only know that it is right todo what I do."

  "Well," said Sister Prudence, "remember, I tried to save you somefuture heartaches. God bless you, anyhow!" she added, with aspontaneity which surprised Sister Angelina into uttering anindividual gasp. "Good-bye!"

  For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the witheredbosom; but long since she had learned repression. She remainedstonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shutthem from view ... for ever.

  _Distinctive Pictures Corporation. The Ragged Edge._A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.]