The Queen of Hearts

by Wilkie Collins

  CHAPTER I.

  I HAD not been settled much more than six weeks in my country practicewhen I was sent for to a neighboring town, to consult with the residentmedical man there on a case of very dangerous illness.

  My horse had come down with me at the end of a long ride the nightbefore, and had hurt himself, luckily, much more than he had hurthis master. Being deprived of the animal's services, I started for mydestination by the coach (there were no railways at that time), and Ihoped to get back again, toward the afternoon, in the same way.

  After the consultation was over, I went to the principal inn of the townto wait for the coach. When it came up it was full inside and out. Therewas no resource left me but to get home as cheaply as I could by hiringa gig. The price asked for this accommodation struck me as being soextortionate, that I determined to look out for an inn of inferiorpretensions, and to try if I could not make a better bargain with a lessprosperous establishment.

  I soon found a likely-looking house, dingy and quiet, with anold-fashioned sign, that had evidently not been repainted for many yearspast. The landlord, in this case, was not above making a small profit,and as soon as we came to terms he rang the yard-bell to order the gig.

  "Has Robert not come back from that errand?" asked the landlord,appealing to the waiter who answered the bell.

  "No, sir, he hasn't."

  "Well, then, you must wake up Isaac."

  "Wake up Isaac!" I repeated; "that sounds rather odd. Do your hostlersgo to bed in the daytime?"

  "This one does," said the landlord, smiling to himself in rather astrange way.

  "And dreams too," added the waiter; "I shan't forget the turn it gave methe first time I heard him."

  "Never you mind about that," retorted the proprietor; "you go and rouseIsaac up. The gentleman's waiting for his gig."

  The landlord's manner and the waiter's manner expressed a great dealmore than they either of them said. I began to suspect that I might beon the trace of something professionally interesting to me as a medicalman, and I thought I should like to look at the hostler before thewaiter awakened him.

  "Stop a minute," I interposed; "I have rather a fancy for seeing thisman before you wake him up. I'm a doctor; and if this queer sleeping anddreaming of his comes from anything wrong in his brain, I may be able totell you what to do with him."

  "I rather think you will find his complaint past all doctoring, sir,"said the landlord; "but, if you would like to see him, you're welcome,I'm sure."

  He led the way across a yard and down a passage to the stables, openedone of the doors, and, waiting outside himself, told me to look in.

  I found myself in a two-stall stable. In one of the stalls a horsewas munching his corn; in the other an old man was lying asleep on thelitter.

  I stooped and looked at him attentively. It was a withered, woe-begoneface. The eyebrows were painfully contracted; the mouth was fast set,and drawn down at the corners.

  The hollow wrinkled cheeks, and the scanty grizzled hair, told theirown tale of some past sorrow or suffering. He was drawing his breathconvulsively when I first looked at him, and in a moment more he beganto talk in his sleep.

  "Wake up!" I heard him say, in a quick whisper, through his clinchedteeth. "Wake up there! Murder!"

  He moved one lean arm slowly till it rested over his throat, shuddered alittle, and turned on his straw. Then the arm left his throat, thehand stretched itself out, and clutched at the side toward which hehad turned, as if he fancied himself to be grasping at the edge ofsomething. I saw his lips move, and bent lower over him. He was stilltalking in his sleep.

  "Light gray eyes," he murmured, "and a droop in the left eyelid; flaxenhair, with a gold-yellow streak in it--all right, mother--fair whitearms, with a down on them--little lady's hand, with a reddish look underthe finger nails. The knife--always the cursed knife--first on one side,then on the other. Aha! you she-devil, where's the knife?"

  At the last word his voice rose, and he grew restless on a sudden. Isaw him shudder on the straw; his withered face became distorted, andhe threw up both his hands with a quick hysterical gasp. They struckagainst the bottom of the manger under which he lay, and the blowawakened him. I had just time to slip through the door and close itbefore his eyes were fairly open, and his senses his own again.

  "Do you know anything about that man's past life?" I said to thelandlord.

  "Yes, sir, I know pretty well all about it," was the answer, "and anuncommon queer story it is. Most people don't believe it. It's true,though, for all that. Why, just look at him," continued the landlord,opening the stable door again. "Poor devil! he's so worn out with hisrestless nights that he's dropped back into his sleep already."

  "Don't wake him," I said; "I'm in no hurry for the gig. Wait till theother man comes back from his errand; and, in the meantime, suppose Ihave some lunch and a bottle of sherry, and suppose you come and help meto get through it?"

  The heart of mine host, as I had anticipated, warmed to me over his ownwine. He soon became communicative on the subject of the man asleep inthe stable, and by little and little I drew the whole story out of him.Extravagant and incredible as the events must appear to everybody, theyare related here just as I heard them and just as they happened.