In White Raiment Page 2

brought herself to the verge of poverty that Imight complete my studies and become a doctor. Poor mother! Shebelieved, like so many believe, that every doctor makes a comfortableincome. And I had worked--nay, slaved--night and day, through sevenwhole years, for less wage than an average artisan.

  I had not dined, for, truth to tell, I had hesitated to change my lastsovereign; but the pangs of hunger reminded me that nothing had passedmy lips since the breakfast in my dingy lodgings, and knowing of a cheapeating-house in Covent Garden, I had paused for a moment at the corner.

  Next instant I felt a hearty slap on the back, and a cheery voicecried--

  "Why, Colkirk, old fellow, what's up? You look as though you're goingto a funeral?"

  I turned quickly and saw a round, fresh-coloured, familiar face beforeme.

  "By Jove!" I exclaimed in pleasant surprise. "Raymond! is it reallyyou?" And we grasped hands heartily.

  "I fancy so," he laughed. "At least, it's what there is left of me. Iwent out to Accra, you know, got a sharp touch of fever, and they onlysent back my skeleton and skin."

  Bob Raymond was always merry and amusing. He had been the humourist ofGuy's, in my time: the foremost in practical joking, and the mostbackward in learning. The despair of more than one eminent lecturer, hehad, nevertheless, been one of the most popular fellows in our set, andhad occupied diggings in the next house to where I lodged in a meanstreet off Newington Butts.

  "Well," I laughed, "if you left your flesh behind you on the West Coast,you've filled out since. Why, you're fatter than ever. What's yourbeverage? Cod-liver oil?"

  "No; just now it's whisky-and-seltzer with a big chunk of ice. Comeinto Romano's and have one. You look as though you want cheering up."

  I accepted his invitation, and we strolled back to the bar he hadmentioned.

  He was a short, fair-haired, sturdily-built fellow with a round facewhich gave him the appearance of an overgrown boy, a pair of blue eyesthat twinkled with good fellowship, cheeks that struck me as just atrifle too ruddy to be altogether healthy, a small mouth, and a tiny,drooping, yellow moustache. He wore a silk hat of brilliant gloss, afrock-coat, as became one of "the profession," and carried in his hand asmart ebony cane with a silver crook. I noticed, as we stood at thebar, that his hat bulged slightly on either side, and knew that in itwas concealed his stethoscope. He was therefore in practice.

  Over our drinks we briefly related our experiences, for we had both leftthe hospital at the same term, and had never met or heard of each othersince. I told him of my drudgery, disappointment, and despair, to whichhe listened with sympathetic ear. Then he told me of himself. He hadgone out to Accra, had a narrow squeak with a bad attack of fever,returned to London to recover, and became assistant to a well-known manat Plymouth.

  "And what are you doing now?" I inquired.

  "I've started a little practice over in Hammersmith," he answered."I've been there a year; but Hammersmith seems such a confoundedlyhealthy spot."

  "You haven't got many patients--eh?" I said, smiling.

  "Unfortunately, no. The red lamp doesn't seem to attract them any morethan the blue lamp before the police-station. If there was only a bitof zymotic disease, I might make a pound or two; but as it is, gout,indigestion, and drink seem to be the principal ailments at present."Then he added, "But if you're not doing anything, why don't you comedown and stay a day or two with me? I'm alone, and we'd be mutualcompany. In the meantime you might hear of something from the _Lancet_.Where's your diggings?"

  I told him.

  "Then let's go over there now and get your traps. Afterwards we can gohome together. I've got cold mutton for supper. Hope you don'tobject."

  "Very digestible," I remarked. And, after some persuasion, he at lengthprevailed upon me to accept his hospitality.

  He had established himself, I found, in the Rowan Road--a turning offthe Hammersmith Road--in an ordinary-looking, ten-roomed house: one ofthose stereotyped ones with four hearth-stoned steps leading to thefront door, and a couple of yards of unhealthy-looking, ill-kept grassbetween the bay window and the iron railings.

  The interior was comfortably furnished, for Bob was not wholly dependentupon his practice. His people were brewers at Bristol, and hisallowance was ample. The dining-room was in front, while the roombehind it was converted into a surgery with the regulation invalid'scouch, a case of second-hand books to lend the place an imposing air,and a small writing-table whereat my hospital chum wrote his rathererratic ordinances.

  Bob was a good fellow, and I spent a pleasant time with him. Old MrsBishop, his housekeeper, made me comfortable, and the whole day long myhost would keep me laughing at his droll witticisms.

  Patients, however, were very few and far between.

  "You see, I'm like the men in Harley Street, my dear old chap," heobserved one day, "I'm only consulted as a last resource."

  I did not feel quite comfortable in accepting his hospitality for morethan a week; but when I announced my intention of departing he would nothear of it, and therefore I remained, each week eager for thepublication of the _Lancet_ with its lists of assistants wanted.

  I had been with him three weeks, and assisted him in his extremely smallpractice, for he sometimes sought my advice as to treatment. Poor oldBob! he was never a very brilliant one in his diagnoses. He always madeit a rule to sound everybody, feel their pulses, press down theirtongues and make them say, "Ah?"

  "Must do something for your money," he would say when the patient hadgone. "They like to be looked at in the mouth."

  One afternoon, while we were sitting together smoking in his little denabove the surgery, he made a sudden suggestion.

  "Do you know, Dick--I scarcely like to ask you--but I wonder whetheryou'd do me a favour?"

  "Most certainly, old chap," I responded.

  "Even though you incur a great responsibility?"

  "What is the responsibility?"

  "A very grave one. To take charge of this extensive practice while I godown to Bristol and see my people. I haven't been homesick a week."

  "Why, of course," I responded. "I'll look after things with pleasure."

  "Thanks. You're a brick. I won't be away for more than a week. Youwon't find it very laborious. There's a couple of kids with the croupround in Angel Road, a bedridden old girl in Bridge Road, and a man inBeadon Road who seems to have a perpetual stomach ache. That's aboutall."

  I smiled. He had not attempted to diagnose the stomach-ache, Isupposed. He was, indeed, a careless fellow.

  "Of course you'll pocket all the fees," he added, with a touch of grimhumour. "They're not very heavy--bobs and half-crowns--but they maykeep you in tobacco till I come back."

  And thus I became the _locum tenens_ of the not too extensive practiceof Robert Raymond, surgeon, for he departed for Paddington on thefollowing evening, and I entered upon my somewhat lonely duties.

  The first couple of days passed without incident. I visited the twochildren with the croup, looked in upon the bedridden relict of abibulous furniture-dealer, and examined the stomach with the perpetualpain. The latter proved a much more serious case than I had supposed,and from the first I saw that the poor fellow was suffering from anincurable disease. My visits only took an hour, and the rest of the dayI spent in the little den upstairs, smoking furiously and reading.

  On the third morning, shortly before midday, just as I was thinking ofgoing out to make my round of visits, an unusual incident occurred.

  I heard a cab stop outside, and a moment later the surgery bell wasviolently rung. I started, for that sound was synonymous with half acrown.

  A middle-aged woman, in black, evidently a domestic servant, stood inthe surgery, and, as I confronted her, asked breathlessly--

  "Are you the doctor, sir?"

  I replied in the affirmative, and asked her to be seated.

  "I'm sorry to trouble you, sir," she said, "but would you come roundwith me? My mistress has been taken worse."


  "What's the matter with her?" I inquired.

  "I don't know, sir," answered the woman, in deep distress, "But I do begof you to come at once."

  "Certainly I will," I said. And leaving her, ascended, put on my boots,and placing my case of instruments in my pocket, quickly rejoined her,and entered the cab in waiting.

  On our drive along Hammersmith Road, and through several thoroughfareslying on the right, I endeavoured to obtain from her some idea of thenature of the lady's ailment; but she was either stupidly ignorant, orelse had received instructions to remain silent.

  The cab at last pulled up before a fine grey house with a