c fractures of the skull--so long, and lying so
near together, that he and Doctor Pell instantly saw 'twould be
impracticable to apply the trepan, in fact that 'twould be certain and
instantaneous death. He was absolutely insensible, but his throat was
not yet palsied, and he could swallow a spoonful of broth or sack whey
from time to time. But he was a dead man to all intents and purposes.
Inflammation might set in at any moment; at best he would soon begin to
sink, and neither he nor Doctor Pell thought he had the smallest chance
of awaking from his lethargy for one moment. He might last two or three
days, or even a week--what did it signify?--what was he better than a
corpse already? He could never hear, see, speak, or think again; and for
any difference it could possibly make to poor Sturk, they might clap him
in his grave and cover him up to-night.

Then the talk turned upon Nutter. Every man had his theory or his
conjecture but Dangerfield, who maintained a discreet reserve, much to
the chagrin of the others, who thought, not without reason, that he knew
more about the state of his affairs, and especially of his relations
with Lord Castlemallard, than perhaps all the world beside.

'Possibly, poor fellow, he was not in a condition to have his accounts
overhauled, and on changing an agency things sometimes come out that
otherwise might have kept quiet. He was the sort of fellow who would go
through with a thing; and if he thought the best way on going out of the
agency was to go out of the world also, out he'd go. They were always a
resolute family--Nutter's great uncle, you know, drowned himself in that
little lake--what do you call it?--in the county of Cavan, and 'twas
mighty coolly and resolutely done too.'

But there was a haunting undivulged suspicion in the minds of each.
Every man knew what his neighbour was thinking of, though he did not
care to ask about his ugly dreams, or to relate his own. They all knew
what sort of terms Sturk and Nutter had been on. They tried to put the
thought away, for though Nutter was not a joker, nor a songster, nor a
story-teller, yet they liked him. Besides, Nutter might possibly turn up
in a day or two, and in that case 'twould go best with those who had not
risked an atrocious conjecture about him in public. So every man waited,
and held his tongue upon that point till his neighbour should begin.

CHAPTER LVI.

DOCTOR WALSINGHAM AND THE CHAPELIZOD CHRISTIANS MEET