Cook
now
seemed
better,
but
asked,
would
Dr
Palmer
kindly listen
to
his
heart,
how
loud
it
was
beating?
The
Doctor,
having obligingly
listened,
reassured
him
that
all
was
well.
Presently
the women
went
to
bed,
and
Dr
Palmer
stayed
with
Cook
until
shortly before
dawn.
Dr
Jones
of
Lutterworth,
a
well-qualified
and
most
experienced medical
man,
had
been
unable
to
visit
Cook
on
the
Monday, although
Dr
Palmer's
request
reached
him
by
the
first
post.
He was
himself
still
suffering
from
the
epidemic
of
nausea
that,
as we
know,
affected
many
othe
r
visitors
to
Shrewsbury
Meeting. However,
he
arrived
by
train
at
three
o'clock
on
the
Tuesday, which
was
November
20th.
Dr
Jones
found
Cook's
pulse
steady and,
learning
that
his
bowels
were
now
acting
normally,
and
that he
felt
fairly
comfortable,
made
no
prescription;
but
saw
him several
times
in
the
course
of
the
afternoon.
That
evening,
Samuel
Cheshire
got
a
written
message
from
Dr Palmer:
'Pray
come
to
my
place,
Sammy,
and
bring
a
receipt stamp
with
you.'
When
Cheshire
complied,
Dr
Palmer
told
him that
it
was
imperative
for
an
order
to
be
sent
by
Cook
to
Mr Weatherby,
Secretary
of
the
Jockey
Club,
at
Birmingham;
but that
Cook
was
too
sick
to
sign
anything.
He
therefore
begged Cheshire
to
do
him
a
great
favour,
namely
copy
an
order,
which he
had
drafted,
and
sign
it
in
Cook's
name.
'It
concerns
Cook's racing
debts
to
me,'
he
said.
'I
can't
wait
for
his
recovery,
because if
I
don't
get
the
money
by
Thursday,
the
bailiffs
will
seize
the furniture
of
this
house.'
Cheshire
obligingly
copied
out:
'Please
pay
Mr
William
Palmer
the
sum
of
£
350
''
signed
himself:
'J.
P.
Cook.'
This
order Dr
Palmer
posted
to
Mr
Weatherby's
office,
with
a
covering
note:
Gentlemen,
I
shall
thank
you
to
send
me
a
cheque
to
the
amount
of
the
enclosed
order.
Mr
Cook
has
been
confined
here
to
his
bed
with
a bilious
attack
which
has
prevented
him
from
being
in
town.
Yours
respectfully,
Wm
Palmer
When
Dr
Bamford
called
again
at
seven
o'clock,
he,
Dr
Jones, and
Dr
Palmer
held
a
consultation.
Dr
Palmer
suggested
that, aldiough
Cook
objected
to
Dr
Bamford's
morphine
pills
which were
administered
on
the
Monday
night,
he
should
nevertheless be
given
a
second
dose.
That
night,
the
spare
bed
in
Cook's
room
was
made
up
for
Dr Jones.
At
about
eleven
o'clock,
Dr
Palmer
brought
the
morphine pills
in
a
box
wrapped
around
with
the
paper
of
directions. 'What
an
excellent
handwriting
Dr
Bamford
has,
for
so
old
a man!'
he
remarked,
and
Dr
Jones
agreed.
Though
Cook
at
first refused
to
take
the
pills,
on
the
ground
that
the
others
had
made him
so
ill,
he
yielded
after
a
while.
The
two
doctors
were
soon searching
for
the
pills
in
the
toast-and-water
which
he
had
immediately
vomited,
but
could
not
find
them
.
Cook,
relieved
by
the
vomiting,
got
up
and
sat
in
a
chair
by
the fire,
where
he
joked
with
Dr
Jones
of
what
sport
he
would
have in
the
hunting
field
that
winter.
Dr
Palmer
had
already
said
goodnight.
Dr
Jones
went
contentedly
down
to
his
supper,
from
which he
returned
at
11
.45
p.m.
Cook
was
now
in
bed,
but
still
awake, and
ready
for
another
drowsy
fox-hunting
chat.
All
of
a
sudden, before
Dr
Jones
had
fallen
asleep,
Cook
sang
out:
'Doctor,
Doctor,
I'm
going
to
be
ill
again!
Ring
the
bell
and
send
for
Billy Palmer!'
He
did
so,
and
Dr
Palmer
was
there
within
the
space
of
two
or th
ree
minutes,
remarking:
'I
never
dressed
so
quickly
in
my
life.' Meanwhile,
Cook
had
asked
Dr
Jones
to
rub
the
nape
of
his
neck. Dr
Jones,
who
complied,
found
a
certain
stiffness
of
the
neck muscles.
Dr
Palmer
had
brought
two
ammonia
pills,
which
Cook swallowed
but
then
uttered
a
cry
of
agony,
and
flung
himself
back on
the
bed.
There
being
only
a
single
mould-candle
in
the
room,
Dr
Jones could
not
get
a
clear
view
of
Cook's
face,
which
lay
in
the
shadow of
the
chamber
pot
on
the
bedside
table;
yet
his
body
was
dreadfully
convulsed
and
all
the
muscles
were
in
spasm.
Cook
gasped: 'Raise
me
up,
or
I
shall
suffocate.'
Though
the
two
doctors
tried to
raise
him
into
a
sitting
position,
his
head
and
spine
were
bent back
like
a
bow,
and
they
could
do
nothing.
Dr
Palmer
hurried away
to
fetch
spirits
of
ammonia
from
his
surgery.
On
the
stair, he
met
Elizabeth
Mills
and
Lavinia
Barnes,
and
when
they
asked after
Cook,
waved
them
away.
'Be
off
with
you,
my
good
girls!' he
said,
'Cook's
not
so
bad
by
a
fiftieth
part
as
he
was
last
night.' Nevertheless,
they
were
not
to
be
got
rid
of
and,
as
soon
as
he returned,
followed
him
into
the
sickroom.