The Autobiography of a Quack [20]
could it have been?
``Excuse me,'' he went on, ``if I ask you for a little whisky.''
This I gave him. He continued: ``Was it Susan or Ellen?''
``No, no!''
``Was it--'' He paused. ``If I ask a question mentally, will the spirits reply?'' I knew what he meant. He wanted to ask if it was his son, but did not wish to speak openly.
``Ask,'' said I.
``I have,'' he returned.
I hesitated. It was rarely my policy to commit myself definitely, yet here I fancied, from the facts of the case and his own terrible anxiety, that he suspected, or more than suspected, his son as the guilty person. I became sure of this as I studied his face. At all events, it would be easy to deny or explain in case of trouble; and, after all, what slander was there in two knocks? I struck twice as usual.
Instantly the old gentleman rose up, very white, but quite firm. ``There,'' he said, and cast a bank-note on the table, ``I thank you,'' and bending his head on his breast, walked, as I thought, with great effort out of the room.
On the following morning, as I made my first appearance in my outer room, which contained at least a dozen persons awaiting advice, who should I see standing by the window but the old gentleman with sandy-gray hair? Along with him was a stout young man with a head as red as mine, and mustache and whiskers to match. Probably the son, I thought--ardent temperament, remorse, come to confess, etc. I was never more mistaken in my life. I was about to go regularly through my patients when the old gentleman began to speak.
``I called, doctor,'' said he, ``to explain the little matter about which I--about which I--''
``Troubled your spirits yesterday,'' added the youth, jocosely, pulling his mustache.
``Beg pardon,'' I returned; ``had we not better talk this over in private? Come into my office,'' I added, touching the younger man on the arm.
Would you believe it? he took out his handkerchief and dusted the place I had touched. ``Better not,'' said he. ``Go on, father; let us get done with this den.''
``Gentlemen,'' said the elder person, addressing the patients, ``I called here yesterday, like a fool, to ask who had stolen from me a sum of money which I believed I left in my room on going out in the morning. This doctor here and his spirits contrived to make me suspect my only son. Well, I charged him at once with the crime as soon as I got back home, and what do you think he did? He said, `Father, let us go up-stairs and look for it,' and--''
Here the young man broke in with: ``Come, father; don't worry yourself for nothing''; and then turning, added: ``To cut the thing short, he found the notes under his candle- stick, where he left them on going to bed. This is all of it. We came here to stop this fellow'' (by which he meant me) ``from carrying a slander further. I advise you, good people, to profit by the matter, and to look up a more honest doctor, if doctoring be what you want.''
As soon as he had ended, I remarked solemnly: ``The words of the spirits are not my words. Who shall hold them accountable?''
``Nonsense,'' said the young man. ``Come, father''; and they left the room.
Now was the time to retrieve my character. ``Gentlemen,'' said I, ``you have heard this very singular account. Trusting the spirits utterly and entirely as I do, it occurs to me that there is no reason why they may not, after all, have been right in their suspicions of this young person. Who can say that, overcome by remorse, he may not have seized the time of his father's absence to replace the money?''
To my amazement, up gets a little old man from the corner. ``Well, you are a low cuss!'' said he, and taking up a basket beside him, hobbled hastily out of the room. You may be sure I said some pretty sharp things to him, for I was out of humor to begin with, and it is one thing to be insulted by a stout young man, and quite another to be abused by a wretched old cripple. However, he went away, and I supposed, for my part, that I was done with the whole business.
An hour later, however, I heard
``Excuse me,'' he went on, ``if I ask you for a little whisky.''
This I gave him. He continued: ``Was it Susan or Ellen?''
``No, no!''
``Was it--'' He paused. ``If I ask a question mentally, will the spirits reply?'' I knew what he meant. He wanted to ask if it was his son, but did not wish to speak openly.
``Ask,'' said I.
``I have,'' he returned.
I hesitated. It was rarely my policy to commit myself definitely, yet here I fancied, from the facts of the case and his own terrible anxiety, that he suspected, or more than suspected, his son as the guilty person. I became sure of this as I studied his face. At all events, it would be easy to deny or explain in case of trouble; and, after all, what slander was there in two knocks? I struck twice as usual.
Instantly the old gentleman rose up, very white, but quite firm. ``There,'' he said, and cast a bank-note on the table, ``I thank you,'' and bending his head on his breast, walked, as I thought, with great effort out of the room.
On the following morning, as I made my first appearance in my outer room, which contained at least a dozen persons awaiting advice, who should I see standing by the window but the old gentleman with sandy-gray hair? Along with him was a stout young man with a head as red as mine, and mustache and whiskers to match. Probably the son, I thought--ardent temperament, remorse, come to confess, etc. I was never more mistaken in my life. I was about to go regularly through my patients when the old gentleman began to speak.
``I called, doctor,'' said he, ``to explain the little matter about which I--about which I--''
``Troubled your spirits yesterday,'' added the youth, jocosely, pulling his mustache.
``Beg pardon,'' I returned; ``had we not better talk this over in private? Come into my office,'' I added, touching the younger man on the arm.
Would you believe it? he took out his handkerchief and dusted the place I had touched. ``Better not,'' said he. ``Go on, father; let us get done with this den.''
``Gentlemen,'' said the elder person, addressing the patients, ``I called here yesterday, like a fool, to ask who had stolen from me a sum of money which I believed I left in my room on going out in the morning. This doctor here and his spirits contrived to make me suspect my only son. Well, I charged him at once with the crime as soon as I got back home, and what do you think he did? He said, `Father, let us go up-stairs and look for it,' and--''
Here the young man broke in with: ``Come, father; don't worry yourself for nothing''; and then turning, added: ``To cut the thing short, he found the notes under his candle- stick, where he left them on going to bed. This is all of it. We came here to stop this fellow'' (by which he meant me) ``from carrying a slander further. I advise you, good people, to profit by the matter, and to look up a more honest doctor, if doctoring be what you want.''
As soon as he had ended, I remarked solemnly: ``The words of the spirits are not my words. Who shall hold them accountable?''
``Nonsense,'' said the young man. ``Come, father''; and they left the room.
Now was the time to retrieve my character. ``Gentlemen,'' said I, ``you have heard this very singular account. Trusting the spirits utterly and entirely as I do, it occurs to me that there is no reason why they may not, after all, have been right in their suspicions of this young person. Who can say that, overcome by remorse, he may not have seized the time of his father's absence to replace the money?''
To my amazement, up gets a little old man from the corner. ``Well, you are a low cuss!'' said he, and taking up a basket beside him, hobbled hastily out of the room. You may be sure I said some pretty sharp things to him, for I was out of humor to begin with, and it is one thing to be insulted by a stout young man, and quite another to be abused by a wretched old cripple. However, he went away, and I supposed, for my part, that I was done with the whole business.
An hour later, however, I heard