Wherein Harry Del Mar was mistaken. He never saw Daughtry again, because Daughtry saw Doctor Emory first.
Kwaque’s increasing restlessness at night, due to the swelling3 under his right arm-pit, had began to wake Daughtry up. After several such experiences, he had investigated and decided4 that Kwaque was sufficiently5 sick to require a doctor. For which reason, one morning at eleven, taking Kwaque along, he called at Walter Merritt Emory’s office and waited his turn in the crowded reception-room.
“I think he’s got cancer, Doc.,” Daughtry said, while Kwaque was pulling off his shirt and undershirt. “He never squealed6, you know, never peeped. That’s the way of niggers. I didn’t find our till he got to wakin’ me up nights with his tossin’ about an’ groanin’ in his sleep.—There! What’d you call it? Cancer or tumour7—no two ways about it, eh?”
But the quick eye of Walter Merritt Emory had not missed, in passing, the twisted fingers of Kwaque’s left hand. Not only was his eye quick, but it was a “leper eye.” A volunteer surgeon in the first days out in the Philippines, he had made a particular study of leprosy, and had observed so many lepers that infallibly, except in the incipient8 beginnings of the disease, he could pick out a leper at a glance. From the twisted fingers, which was the anæsthetic form, produced by nerve-disintegration, to the corrugated9 lion forehead (again anæsthetic), his eyes flashed to the swelling under the right arm-pit and his brain diagnosed it as the tubercular form.
Just as swiftly flashed through his brain two thoughts: the first, the axiom, whenever and wherever you find a leper, look for the other leper; the second, the desired Irish terrier, who was owned by Daughtry, with whom Kwaque had been long associated. And here all swiftness of eye-flashing ceased on the part of Walter Merritt Emory. He did not know how much, if anything, the steward10 knew about leprosy, and he did not care to arouse any suspicions. Casually12 drawing his watch to see the time, he turned and addressed Daughtry.
“I should say his blood is out of order. He’s run down. He’s not used to the recent life he’s been living, nor to the food. To make certain, I shall examine for cancer and tumour, although there’s little chance of anything like that.”
And as he talked, with just a waver for a moment, his gaze lifted above Daughtry’s eyes to the area of forehead just above and between the eyes. It was sufficient. His “leper-eye” had seen the “lion” mark of the leper.
“Can’t say that I am,” Daughtry agreed. “I guess I got to get back to the sea an’ the tropics and warm the rheumatics outa me.”
“Where?” queried15 Doctor Emory, almost absently, so well did he feign16 it, as if apparently17 on the verge18 of returning to a closer examination, of Kwaque’s swelling.
Daughtry extended his left hand, with a little wiggle of the little finger advertising19 the seat of the affliction. Walter Merritt Emory saw, with seeming careless look out from under careless-drooping eyelids20, the little finger slightly swollen21, slightly twisted, with a smooth, almost shiny, silkiness of skin-texture. Again, in the course of turning to look at Kwaque, his eyes rested an instant on the lion-lines of Daughtry’s brow.
“Rheumatism22 is still the great mystery,” Doctor Emory said, returning to Daughtry as if deflected23 by the thought. “It’s almost individual, there are so many varieties of it. Each man has a kind of his own. Any numbness24?”
Daughtry laboriously25 wiggled his little finger.
“Yes, sir,” he answered. “It ain’t as lively as it used to was.”
“Ah,” Walter Merritt Emory murmured, with a vastitude of confidence and assurance. “Please sit down in that chair there. Maybe I won’t be able to cure you, but I promise you I can direct you to the best place to live for what’s the matter with you.—Miss Judson!”
And while the trained-nurse-apparelled young woman seated Dag Daughtry in the enamelled surgeon’s chair and leaned him back under direction, and while Doctor Emory dipped his finger-tips into the strongest antiseptic his office possessed26, behind Doctor Emory’s eyes, in the midst of his brain, burned the image of a desired Irish terrier who did turns in sailor-town cabarets, was rough-coated, and answered to the full name of Killeny Boy.
“You’ve got rheumatism in more places than your little finger,” he assured Daughtry. “There’s a touch right here, I’ll wager, on your forehead. One moment, please. Move if I hurt you, Otherwise sit still, because I don’t intend to hurt you. I merely want to see if my diagnosis27 is correct.—There, that’s it. Move when you feel anything. Rheumatism has strange freaks.—Watch this, Miss Judson, and I’ll wager this form of rheumatism is new to you. See. He does not resent. He thinks I have not begun yet . . . ”
And as he talked, steadily28, interestingly, he was doing what Dag Daughtry never dreamed he was doing, and what made Kwaque, looking on, almost dream he was seeing because of the unrealness and impossibleness of it. For, with a large needle, Doctor Emory was probing the dark spot in the midst of the vertical29 lion-lines. Nor did he merely probe the area. Thrusting into it from one side, under the skin and parallel to it, he buried the length of the needle from sight through the insensate infiltration30. This Kwaque beheld31 with bulging32 eyes; for his master betrayed no sign that the thing was being done.
“Why don’t you begin?” Dag Daughtry questioned impatiently. “Besides, my rheumatism don’t count. It’s the nigger-boy’s swelling.”
“You need a course of treatment,” Doctor Emory assured him. “Rheumatism is a tough proposition. It should never be let grow chronic33. I’ll fix up a course of treatment for you. Now, if you’ll get out of the chair, we’ll look at your black servant.”
But first, before Kwaque was leaned back, Doctor Emory threw over the chair a sheet that smelled of having been roasted almost to the scorching34 point. As he was about to examine Kwaque, he looked with a slight start of recollection at his watch. When he saw the time he startled more, and turned a reproachful face upon his assistant.
“Miss Judson,” he said, coldly emphatic35, “you have failed me. Here it is, twenty before twelve, and you knew I was to confer with Doctor Hadley over that case at eleven-thirty sharp. How he must be cursing me! You know how peevish36 he is.”
Miss Judson nodded, with a perfect expression of contrition37 and humility38, as if she knew all about it, although, in reality, she knew only all about her employer and had never heard till that moment of his engagement at eleven-thirty.
“Doctor Hadley’s just across the hall,” Doctor Emory explained to Daughtry. “It won’t take me five minutes. He and I have a disagreement. He has diagnosed the case as chronic appendicitis39 and wants to operate. I have diagnosed it as pyorrhea which has infected the stomach from the mouth, and have suggested emetine treatment of the mouth as a cure for the stomach disorder40. Of course, you don’t understand, but the point is that I’ve persuaded Doctor Hadley to bring in Doctor Granville, who is a dentist and a pyorrhea expert. And they’re all waiting for me these ten minutes! I must run.
“I’ll return inside five minutes,” he called back as the door to the hall was closing upon him.—“Miss Judson, please tell those people in the reception-room to be patient.”
He did enter Doctor Hadley’s office, although no sufferer from pyorrhea or appendicitis awaited him. Instead, he used the telephone for two calls: one to the president of the board of health; the other to the chief of police. Fortunately, he caught both at their offices, addressing them familiarly by their first names and talking to them most emphatically and confidentially41.
Back in his own quarters, he was patently elated.
“I told him so,” he assured Miss Judson, but embracing Daughtry in the happy confidence. “Doctor Granville backed me up. Straight pyorrhea, of course. That knocks the operation. And right now they’re jolting42 his gums and the pus-sacs with emetine. Whew! A fellow likes to be right. I deserve a smoke. Do you mind, Mr. Daughtry?”
And while the steward shook his head, Doctor Emory lighted a big Havana and continued audibly to luxuriate in his fictitious43 triumph over the other doctor. As he talked, he forgot to smoke, and, leaning quite casually against the chair, with arrant44 carelessness allowed the live coal at the end of his cigar to rest against the tip of one of Kwaque’s twisted fingers. A privy45 wink46 to Miss Judson, who was the only one who observed his action, warned her against anything that might happen.
“You know, Mr. Daughtry,” Walter Merritt Emory went on enthusiastically, while he held the steward’s eyes with his and while all the time the live end of the cigar continued to rest against Kwaque’s finger, “the older I get the more convinced I am that there are too many ill-advised and hasty operations.”
Still fire and flesh pressed together, and a tiny spiral of smoke began to arise from Kwaque’s finger-end that was different in colour from the smoke of a cigar-end.
“Now take that patient of Doctor Hadley’s. I’ve saved him, not merely the risk of an operation for appendicitis, but the cost of it, and the hospital expenses. I shall charge him nothing for what I did. Hadley’s charge will be merely nominal47. Doctor Granville, at the outside, will cure his pyorrhea with emetine for no more than a paltry48 fifty dollars. Yes, by George, besides the risk to his life, and the discomfort49, I’ve saved that man, all told, a cold thousand dollars to surgeon, hospital, and nurses.”
And while he talked on, holding Daughtry’s eyes, a smell of roast meat began to pervade50 the air. Doctor Emory smelled it eagerly. So did Miss Judson smell it, but she had been warned and gave no notice. Nor did she look at the juxtaposition51 of cigar and finger, although she knew by the evidence of her nose that it still obtained.
“Pretty rotten cigar,” Doctor Emory observed, having removed it from contact with Kwaque’s finger and now examining it with critical disapproval53. He held it close to his nose, and his face portrayed54 disgust. “I won’t say cabbage leaves. I’ll merely say it’s something I don’t know and don’t care to know. That’s the trouble. They get out a good, new brand of cigar, advertise it, put the best of tobacco into it, and, when it has taken with the public, put in inferior tobacco and ride the popularity of it. No more in mine, thank you. This day I change my brand.”
So speaking, he tossed the cigar into a cuspidor. And Kwaque, leaning back in the queerest chair in which he had ever sat, was unaware55 that the end of his finger had been burned and roasted half an inch deep, and merely wondered when the medicine doctor would cease talking and begin looking at the swelling that hurt his side under his arm.
And for the first time in his life, and for the ultimate time, Dag Daughtry fell down. It was an irretrievable fall-down. Life, in its freedom of come and go, by heaving sea and reeling deck, through the home of the trade-winds, back and forth56 between the ports, ceased there for him in Walter Merritt Emory’s office, while the calm-browed Miss Judson looked on and marvelled57 that a man’s flesh should roast and the man wince58 not from the roasting of it.
Doctor Emory continued to talk, and tried a fresh cigar, and, despite the fact that his reception-room was overflowing59, delivered, not merely a long, but a live and interesting, dissertation60 on the subject of cigars and of the tobacco leaf and filler as grown and prepared for cigars in the tobacco-favoured regions of the earth.
“Now, as regards this swelling,” he was saying, as he began a belated and distant examination of Kwaque’s affliction, “I should say, at a glance, that it is neither tumour nor cancer, nor is it even a boil. I should say . . . ”
A knock at the private door into the hall made him straighten up with an eagerness that he did not attempt to mask. A nod to Miss Judson sent her to open the door, and entered two policemen, a police sergeant61, and a professionally whiskered person in a business suit with a carnation62 in his button-hole.
“Good morning, Doctor Masters,” Emory greeted the professional one, and, to the others: “Howdy, Sergeant;” “Hello, Tim;” “Hello, Johnson—when did they shift you off the Chinatown squad63?”
And then, continuing his suspended sentence, Walter Merritt Emory held on, looking intently at Kwaque’s swelling:
“I should say, as I was saying, that it is the finest, ripest, perforating ulcer64 of the bacillus leprae order, that any San Francisco doctor has had the honour of presenting to the board of health.”
“Leprosy!” exclaimed Doctor Masters.
And all started at his pronouncement of the word. The sergeant and the two policemen shied away from Kwaque; Miss Judson, with a smothered65 cry, clapped her two hands over her heart; and Dag Daughtry, shocked but sceptical, demanded:
“What are you givin’ us, Doc.?”
“Stand still! don’t move!” Walter Merritt Emory said peremptorily66 to Daughtry. “I want you to take notice,” he added to the others, as he gently touched the live-end of his fresh cigar to the area of dark skin above and between the steward’s eyes. “Don’t move,” he commanded Daughtry. “Wait a moment. I am not ready yet.”
And while Daughtry waited, perplexed67, confused, wondering why Doctor Emory did not proceed, the coal of fire burned his skin and flesh, till the smoke of it was apparent to all, as was the smell of it. With a sharp laugh of triumph, Doctor Emory stepped back.
“Well, go ahead with what you was goin’ to do,” Daughtry grumbled68, the rush of events too swift and too hidden for him to comprehend. “An’ when you’re done with that, I just want you to explain what you said about leprosy an’ that nigger-boy there. He’s my boy, an’ you can’t pull anything like that off on him . . . or me.”
“Gentlemen, you have seen,” Doctor Emory said. “Two undoubted cases of it, master and man, the man more advanced, with the combination of both forms, the master with only the anæsthetic form—he has a touch of it, too, on his little finger. Take them away. I strongly advise, Doctor Masters, a thorough fumigation69 of the ambulance afterward70.”
“Look here . . . ” Dag Daughtry began belligerently71.
Doctor Emory glanced warningly to Doctor Masters, and Doctor Masters glanced authoritatively72 at the sergeant who glanced commandingly at his two policemen. But they did not spring upon Daughtry. Instead, they backed farther away, drew their clubs, and glared intimidatingly73 at him. More convincing than anything else to Daughtry was the conduct of the policemen. They were manifestly afraid of contact with him. As he started forward, they poked74 the ends of their extended clubs towards his ribs75 to ward11 him off.
“Don’t you come any closer,” one warned him, flourishing his club with the advertisement of braining him. “You stay right where you are until you get your orders.”
“Put on your shirt and stand over there alongside your master,” Doctor Emory commanded Kwaque, having suddenly elevated the chair and spilled him out on his feet on the floor.
“But what under the sun . . . ” Daughtry began, but was ignored by his quondam friend, who was saying to Doctor Masters:
“The pest-house has been vacant since that Japanese died. I know the gang of cowards in your department so I’d advise you to give the dope to these here so that they can disinfect the premises76 when they go in.”
“For the love of Mike,” Daughtry pleaded, all of stunned77 belligerence78 gone from him in his state of stunned conviction that the dread79 disease possessed him. He touched his finger to his sensationless forehead, then smelled it and recognized the burnt flesh he had not felt burning. “For the love of Mike, don’t be in such a rush. If I’ve got it, I’ve got it. But that ain’t no reason we can’t deal with each other like white men. Give me two hours an’ I’ll get outa the city. An’ in twenty-four I’ll be outa the country. I’ll take ship—”
“And continue to be a menace to the public health wherever you are,” Doctor Masters broke in, already visioning a column in the evening papers, with scare-heads, in which he would appear the hero, the St. George of San Francisco standing80 with poised81 lance between the people and the dragon of leprosy.
“Take them away,” said Waiter Merritt Emory, avoiding looking Daughtry in the eyes.
“Ready! March!” commanded the sergeant.
The two policemen advanced on Daughtry and Kwaque with extended clubs.
“Keep away, an’ keep movin’,” one of the policemen growled82 fiercely. “An’ do what we say, or get your head cracked. Out you go, now. Out the door with you. Better tell that coon to stick right alongside you.”
“Doc., won’t you let me talk a moment?” Daughtry begged of Emory.
“The time for talking is past,” was the reply. “This is the time for segregation83.—Doctor Masters, don’t forget that ambulance when you’re quit of the load.”
So the procession, led by the board-of-heath doctor and the sergeant, and brought up in the rear by the policemen with their protectively extended clubs, started through the doorway84.
Whirling about on the threshold, at the imminent85 risk of having his skull86 cracked, Dag Daughtry called back:
“Doc! My dog! You know ’m.”
“I’ll get him for you,” Doctor Emory consented quickly. “What’s the address?”
“Room eight-seven, Clay street, the Bowhead Lodging87 House, you know the place, entrance just around the corner from the Bowhead Saloon. Have ’m sent out to me wherever they put me—will you?”
“Certainly I will,” said Doctor Emory, “and you’ve got a cockatoo, too?”
“You bet, Cocky! Send ’m both along, please, sir.”
“My!” said Miss Judson, that evening, at dinner with a certain young interne of St. Joseph’s Hospital. “That Doctor Emory is a wizard. No wonder he’s successful. Think of it! Two filthy88 lepers in our office to-day! One was a coon. And he knew what was the matter the moment he laid eyes on them. He’s a caution. When I tell you what he did to them with his cigar! And he was cute about it! He gave me the wink first. And they never dreamed what he was doing. He took his cigar and . . . ”
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收听单词发音
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1
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tumour
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| n.(tumor)(肿)瘤，肿块 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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feign
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| vt.假装，佯作 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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deflected
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| 偏离的 | |
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numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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infiltration
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| n.渗透；下渗；渗滤；入渗 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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scorching
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| adj. 灼热的 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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peevish
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| adj.易怒的，坏脾气的 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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appendicitis
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| n.阑尾炎，盲肠炎 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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nominal
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| adj.名义上的；(金额、租金)微不足道的 | |
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paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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pervade
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| v.弥漫，遍及，充满，渗透，漫延 | |
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51
juxtaposition
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| n.毗邻，并置，并列 | |
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52
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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53
disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wince
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| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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dissertation
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| n.（博士学位）论文，学术演讲，专题论文 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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carnation
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| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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ulcer
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| n.溃疡，腐坏物 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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peremptorily
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| adv.紧急地，不容分说地，专横地 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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fumigation
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| n.烟熏，熏蒸；忿恨 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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belligerently
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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intimidatingly
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| 吓人 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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belligerence
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| n.交战，好战性，斗争性 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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segregation
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| n.隔离，种族隔离 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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