Night Watches | Page 4

be a long one. The
monotony, to a man of his active habits, became almost intolerable, and
the narrated adventures of Mr. James Flynn, his only caller, filled him
with an uncontrollable longing to be up and doing.
The fine weather went, and Mr. Scutts, in his tumbled bed, lay
watching the rain beating softly on the window-panes. Then one
morning he awoke to the darkness of a London fog.
"It gets worse and worse," said Mrs. Scutts, as she returned home in the
afternoon with a relish for his tea. "Can't see your 'and before your
face."
Mr. Scutts looked thoughtful. He ate his tea in silence, and after he had

finished lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking.
"Penny for your thoughts," said his wife.
"I'm going out," said Mr. Scutts, in a voice that defied opposition. "I'm
going to 'ave a walk, and when I'm far enough away I'm going to 'ave
one or two drinks. I believe this fog is sent a-purpose to save my life."
Mrs. Scutts remonstrated, but in vain, and at half-past six the invalid,
with his cap over his eyes and a large scarf tied round the lower part of
his face, listened for a moment at his front door and then disappeared in
the fog.
Left to herself, Mrs. Scutts returned to the bedroom and, poking the
tiny fire into a blaze, sat and pondered over the willfulness of men.
She was awakened from a doze by a knocking at the street-door. It was
just eight o'clock, and, inwardly congratulating her husband on his
return to common sense and home, she went down and opened it. Two
tall men in silk hats entered the room.
"Mrs. Scutts?" said one of them.
Mrs. Scutts, in a dazed fashion, nodded.
"We have come to see your husband," said the intruder. "I am a
doctor."
The panic-stricken Mrs. Scutts tried in vain to think.
"He-he's asleep," she said, at last.
"Doesn't matter," said the doctor.
"Not a bit," said his companion.
"You--you can't see him," protested Mrs. Scutts. "He ain't to be seen."
"He'd be sorry to miss me," said the doctor, eyeing her keenly as she

stood on guard by the inner door. "I suppose he's at home?"
"Of course," said Mrs. Scutts, stammering and flushing. "Why, the pore
man can't stir from his bed."
"Well, I'll just peep in at the door, then," said the doctor. "I won't wake
him. You can't object to that. If you do--"
Mrs. Scutts's head began to swim. "I'll go up and see whether he's
awake," she said.
She closed the door on them and stood with her hand to her throat,
thinking. Then, instead of going upstairs, she passed into the yard and,
stepping over the fence, opened Mr. Flynn's back door.
"Halloa!" said that gentleman, who was standing in the scullery
removing mud from his boots. "What's up?"
In a frenzied gabble Mrs. Scutts told him. "You must be 'im," she said,
clutching him by the coat and dragging him towards the door. "They've
never seen 'im, and they won't know the difference."
"But--" exclaimed the astonished James.
"Quick!" she said, sharply. "Go into the back room and undress, then
nip into his room and get into bed. And mind, be fast asleep all the
time."
Still holding the bewildered Mr. Flynn by the coat, she led him into the
house and waved him upstairs, and stood below listening until a slight
creaking of the bed announced that he had obeyed orders. Then she
entered the parlour.
"He's fast asleep," she said, softly; "and mind, I won't 'ave him
disturbed. It's the first real sleep he's 'ad for nearly a week. If you
promise not to wake 'im you may just have a peep."
"We won't disturb him," said the doctor, and, followed by his
companion, noiselessly ascended the stairs and peeped into the room.

Mr. Flynn was fast asleep, and not a muscle moved as the two men
approached the bed on tip-toe and stood looking at him. The doctor
turned after a minute and led the way out of the room.
"We'll call again," he said, softly.
"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Scutts. "When?"
The doctor and his companion exchanged glances. "I'm very busy just
at present," he said, slowly. "We'll look in some time and take our
chance of catching him awake."
Mrs. Scutts bowed them out, and in some perplexity returned to Mr.
Flynn. "I don't like the look of 'em," she said, shaking her head. "You'd
better stay in bed till Bill comes 'ome in case they come back."
"Right-o," said the obliging Mr. Flynn. "Just step in and tell my
landlady I'm 'aving a chat with Bill."
He lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking until a knock