The Argosy, Volume XLIV — page 273: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BY THE ENEMY’S WILL. “ But why not you?” “T don’t like ”—he spoke slowly and distinctly as he looked over his shoul- der—* your style.” “My style! Good Heaven! What on earth has that to do with an ailing girl? You must be inhuman if you persist in behavior like this. True, I am agitated and look pallid.” Catching a glimpse of myself in the, mirror over the hall table, I was taken aback by the reflection. It was gross flattery to label such a color as 1 was wearing merely pallid. “ But that does not justify your re- fusal to come with me,” I continued, with increasing insistence. “ Surely there are duties attaching to your pro- fession. For all I know, the girl I have left in my rooms may be dying—dead.” He looked up at that in such a cu- rious way that he scemed to make notes of interrogation with his eyebrows. “Dead!” he exclaimed. “For all I know.” A moment of hesitation, then he walked to the rack again. Picking up his hat, he stood with:-it in his hand, inquired: “ Anything more to say before we start?” “Only to tell you that I haven’t the very faintest idea who the girl is, or her name, or anything about her.” “Where did you pick her up?” Once again my blood turned hot and bubbled up; but not wanting him to take his hat off again, I kept it from boiling over. I restrained my indigna- tion sufficiently to answer quietly: “You are wrong in the impression you have formed. I didn’t pick her up at all. She came to my rooms of her own accord.” “To consult you, probably, on a legal matter?” Irritation in every word he uttered. “Is that what you would tell me? ” Once more I put a curb on that tem- per of mine, which struggled to arise and do battle with the doctor’s sneer. I answered: “Nothing of the sort. But there—I see it is hopeless to try to convince you. You have made up your mind; I won’t trv to alter it; let it rest. But for the sirl’s sake, let us lose no time.” 269 “This way.” His hand was on the door handle as he spoke. Following him out, I pointed the way we were to take, and with scarcely the exchange of a word we walked from his house to my chambers. We did not enter the Inn by the same gate through which I had made exit; the doctor’s house was nearer the other one. Having ascended the three flights of stairs, I put my key in the lock and opened the door. As I did so I paused and listened, half in a hope that [ should hear move- ment from the neighborhood of the bedroom. Indeed, I should not have been sorry had I heard the noise of some one en- deavoring to break out; but there came not a sound. “Tor what are you waiting?” in- quired the doctor. “I understood you to say that the girl you have here was dying—might be dead.” His irritant voice quickened my movements. Thrusting the keys into my pocket, [ walked in the direction of the bedroom door. In endeavoring to turn the key, which I had left in the lock, my hand trembled so that I knocked it out of its hole and it fell to the ground. Stooping and picking it up, I inserted it in the key-hole again. “Locked in!” The doctor’s voice; upturned intonation again. “ You keep prisoners in your chambers, do you? ” “TI thought it better 7 Then I paused. What was the use of trying to explain to this prejudiced man, one who was—for some inexplic- able reason—biased against me; who plainly considered everything I said to be prevarication or falsehood. Opening the door, I advanced quietly into the bedroom; the doctor was quick on my heels. As I stopped at the foot of the bed, he went round to the side of it. Iiis first act was_to put a hand on the girl’s brow; his next to circle her pulse with his fingers. As the height of its temperature and the feebleness of its beats struck him, he made a clicking sound with his tongue and teeth. “The matter?” I put the question shortly, eagerly, bending over the foot rail. “ What is the matter with her?” awa GOI OOoO SS (GO) awa