University of San Francisco - USF Don Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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12 TIIE I OX ATI AX evidently a case of starvation. We must remove Doctor Pill to another room.” It was quite a time before Doctor Jones re-entered the sick room and announced to the Specialist: ‘‘Doctor Pill is getting along nicely, now. lie hadn't had any food for three days.” The mother who had been admitted to sec her child, came forward saying: “Oh Doctor Jones, how can I thank you? My baby is going to get well?” and tears of joy rolled down her checks. The specialist too, came forward. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said, and he talked as a man who knew what he said and meant every word of it. “There are but two men in this world who could have performed that operation. One is the great surgeon, George Findlay, a college chum of mine; the other is the man who did it. I must see him, Doctor.” Following Doctor Jones he entered a nearby room where the stranger lay in bed. lie was sleeping soundly. Tiptoeing to the couch, the specialist gazed earnestly and long at the quiet face. “Can it be?” he muttered to himself, “or is it some strange double? And if it be he, as I feel certain it is, how came he here in this condition?” “Let him rest,” he said to the nurse, “he deserves it. I shall return this afternoon to sec both patients; but say nothing of my coming.” Evening was again drawing on as the specialist drove up to the house. Barely knocking at the door, he entered and pressed on to the stranger's room. The man was dressed and sitting in a chair but his eyes were closed as if he were dozing. “Foxy,” muttered the specialist to himself, “he thinks it's Doctor Jones and lie's seeking to escape the praise he so richly merits.” Then quickly advancing and placing his hand upon the man's shoulder, “Hello! George Findlay,” he cried, “a nice way this, sneaking into a man's practice.” Instantly the stranger was wide awake, “I had to do it,

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TIIE RETURN OF DR. FILL 11 The stranger sat by the bedside and watched all through the long, long night. As the hours wore on, a faintness crept slowly over him. At times he was almost overpowered, but still he fought off sleep with grim determination. When the first grey streaks of dawn were creeping into the room, the sound of a rapidly-driven horse came nearer and nearer. The wheels of a carriage grated on the gravel. Relief had come. He ceased to struggle, and faint with weariness, he fell unconscious to the floor. The door of the sick room opened and two men entered. Doctor Jones caught sight of the prostrate figure and bent over it, while the Specialist examined the sleeping child. After a short silence the Specialist cried out excitedly: “She just moved her foot. Why, man alive, with an injury such as you described, it would be impossible.” “Moved her foot?” Doctor Jones abandoned his patient and went to the bedside. Just then the nurse entered. “Good morning, Doctor,” she said, “How do you find her?” “She just moved her limb! 1 can’t understand it. It’s totally beyond me,” was his puzzled answer. “Why,” exclaimed the nurse”, the specialist you sent last night operated on her. Didn’t Doctor Pill tell you all about it?” ““The specialist . . . Doctor Pill?” he said blankly; “what do you mean? Is this the Specialist?” and he pointed to the surgeon by the bed. “Why, he said he was the Specialist you sent for and he operated,” explained the nurse, indicating the prostrate figure on the floor. The doctor again knelt by the Stranger, seeking to revive him, while the Specialist still tried to fathom the mysteries of the child’s betterment. “Miss Dewey, bring some milk or broth . . . this is

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TIIE RETURN OF DR. PILL 13 Bill,” he said; ‘‘you know I had to. You would have done the same.” “I’m not so sure of that,” said Bill, ‘‘there is only one man in the world that can do the same, though this morning for a brief spell I thought that there were two. But, Great Scott! what is New York’s petted child doing down here in this disguise, when he should be in the metropolis killing off the population?” “Don’t rub it in, Bill, please don’t,” pleaded Findlay and a look of agony came into his eyes. “Rub it in, what do you mean? I was only joking. You are getting touchy in your old age. What is the matter?” “I thought you were referring to my last two patients in New York,” said Findlay. “I assure you it was not my fault.” “What last two patients?” inquired Bill. “Then you have not heard?” said Findlay. “Thank God! there is some one that does not know. Six months ago 1 operated on a man. Ilis spine was improving nicely. I was elated and happy. I operated on a boy who was also on the road to recovery. Then the catastrophe came like lightning from a clear sky. Both died of lockjaw. You know that at that time I was experimenting with lock-jaw and everybody knew about the discoveries I had made, so of course I was accused of inoculating the two patients with the fatal germ. My reputation was ruined. I seemed to bear upon me the brand of Cain. I left the city caring little where I went. I would seek to forget and be forgotten. So I took to the road and here I am. For God’s sake let your lips be sealed. People think, no doubt, that I am dead.” The specialist fumbled in his pocket, and drew thence a newspaper clipping neatly folded. “IIow little I expected,” he said, “when I cut this out, that Providence would use it as it does to-day. Listen: