His Hearts Queen | Page 6

home of this brave young
carpenter to whom she owes so much."
"Young!" repeated Mrs. Mencke, remarking the adjective for the first
time, and looking somewhat annoyed. "How old is he?"
"About twenty-three or twenty-four, I should judge," was the reply.
A frown settled upon the woman's brow; but after a moment she asked:
"Do you consider her dangerously ill, Doctor Norton?"
"Yes, madame, she is. Your sister is delicately organized, and her
system has had a terrible shock; the horror and fright alone, of those
few dreadful moments, were sufficient to unhinge the strongest
nerves," the physician gravely replied.
As he said this he happened to glance at Mr. Mencke, and was
astonished, amazed, to observe a look of unmistakable satisfaction, if
not of absolute triumph, flash from his eyes.
What could it mean?
Was it possible that the man, for any secret reason, could desire the
death of this young and beautiful girl?
He had not once spoken as yet, having simply nodded to the doctor,
with a half-suppressed grunt, in answer to his courteous salutation.
"William, do you hear?" his wife now said, turning to him. "Violet is
dangerously ill down on Hughes street. I must go to her at once."
"Certainly, of course," responded her better half, with a shrug of his

corpulent shoulders.
"She is my sister, though much younger than myself, and I have had the
care of her ever since the death of our parents," Mrs. Mencke explained.
"What can I do? Will it be possible to bring her home?"
"I fear not at present," Doctor Norton returned, "but it would be well to
provide a competent nurse for her where she is, as Mrs. Richardson has
her hands more than full with the care of both patients and her domestic
duties also."
"Certainly, Violet shall have every attention," the woman responded,
somewhat haughtily, while the frown deepened upon her brow at the
mention of the people upon whose care her sister had been so strangely
thrown.
Doctor Norton was inwardly indignant that neither of his listeners
should express the slightest gratitude or appreciation for what brave
Wallace Richardson had done to save the young girl's life. Evidently
they were not pleased that she should owe so great a debt to so plebeian
a source.
Mrs. Mencke now arose and excused herself, saying that she would
make ready to accompany the physician to Hughes street to attend to
her sister's needs.
"That was a horrible affair," Doctor Norton observed to Mr. Mencke, as
she left the room, determined to draw out his reticent companion if that
were possible.
"It was beastly," grunted the man, with another shrug; "and the
corporation will have a pretty sum to pay for damages. Will--do you
think the girl--Violet--will die?" and the man leaned eagerly forward, a
greedy sparkle in his small, black eyes.
A flush of anger and disgust mounted to the good doctor's brow at this
question, and like a flash the man's character was revealed to him.

He saw that he was a shrewd, grasping, money-making man, who
measured everything and everybody by dollars and cents; that already,
instead of feeling gratitude, he was computing the chances of making
something out of the "corporation" in the event of the death of his
wife's sister, if, indeed, the girl herself did not possess a fortune which
would also fall into his hands should she die.
"I shall do my best to save her, sir; that is, if I am allowed to retain the
case--and I see no reason why, with proper care, she should not
recover," he forced himself to reply, as courteously as possible.
"Humph!" grunted Mr. Mencke, and then he fell to musing again,
doubtless computing the chances upon some other money-making
scheme.
Presently Mrs. Mencke returned, dressed to go out and bearing a
well-filled satchell in her hands. She had hastily gathered a few articles
of comfort for her sister's use.
Doctor Norton and his companion proceeded directly to Hughes street,
where Mrs. Richardson welcomed Mrs. Mencke with motherly
kindness and interest, and then conducted her at once to the bedside of
the unconscious Violet, who was still calling piteously upon Belle and
Wilhelm to save her.
"Belle is here, Violet," said her sister, bending over the sufferer; "you
are safe, and nothing can hurt you now."
At the sound of her familiar voice the sick girl glanced up at her, and a
flash of recognition and consciousness returned for a moment.
"Oh, Belle!" she cried, with a sigh of relief, as she seemed to realize for
the first time that she was safe. "It was so horrible--horrible! But he
was so brave--a hero, and so handsome----"
"Hush, dear; you must not talk about it," interrupted the proud woman,
her brow contracting instantly at this