The great surgeon lolled back in his chair, and, raising a glass of champagne3 in those delicately formed, yet steel-strong fingers that had resolved the intricacies of life and death for many a sufferer, he gazed thoughtfully at the whirling torrent5 of tiny bubbles and then touched it lightly to his lips. It was one of those rare times when the wheel of Fate had brought together a group of men united by the strongest bond that friendship can tie, the bond of the college life and love of auld6 lang syne7. It was heart to heart here, even as it had been with us a quarter century before, ere we had parted to go our several ways in the broad fields of life.
Of us all, Harrington had become the one pre-eminently famous, and his remark came in reply to a bit of the congratulatory flattery that only the intimacy8 of the college chum dare venture with impunity9.
“What do you mean, Harrington?” asked Dalbey, the banker. “Perplexities of diagnosis10, the nervous strain of responsibility, and the like?”
“I think I can say without conceit,” replied the surgeon, “that diagnosis has become with me almost p. 194an intuition. In that field I have absolute confidence in myself. As for nerves, I haven’t any. I can cut within the fiftieth of an inch of certain death as coolly as you pare your nail. No; I mean deliberate wickedness, malice11, blackmail12. We are never free from this danger. Let me give you an instance, if it won’t bore you.”
There was a chorus of calls, “Go on, go on,” and Jenkins cried, “Never heard it!” for which he was promptly13 squelched14.
It was just two years ago (Harrington began), and my five gray hairs date from that night. I was sitting in my office just after my evening office hour had ended, and I was pretty well tired out. The bell rang furiously, and I heard the attendant saying that my hour was over and that I could see no one. There was some very vigorous insistence15, and I caught the words “urgent,” “imperative,” and a few more equally significant, so I called to the man that I would see the belated visitor. He entered quickly. He was evidently a man of wealth and breeding, and as evidently laboring16 under great excitement.
“Is this Dr. Harrington?” he asked as he seated himself close by my desk.
“It is,” I answered.
“Dr. James Y. Harrington?”
“Yes.”
In the next second I found myself looking into the muzzle17 of a revolver. They say that when a man is in imminent18 danger, the mental strain is relieved automatically by trivialities of thought; and, do you know, the first thing that flamed p. 195through my head was, “How many turns does the rifling take in a barrel of that length?”
“I have come to kill you,” said my visitor in a tone as cold as camphor ice, yet with a dignified19 courtesy I could not but admire. Was I face to face with a crank? This question I decided20 in the negative, and the situation became so much the more—piquant, shall I say? Well, I can say it now, at least. Perspective adds piquancy21, very often.
“Sir,” I said as quietly-as most men could when a very earnest gentleman has the drop on them, “sir, there is certainly some mistake here.”
It may have been an inane22 remark; but at least he didn’t pull the trigger, and that gained time.
“There is none, I am equally certain,” he replied.
“You have me at a decided disadvantage,” I continued, “and as any movement of attack or alarm on my part would precipitate23 fatalities24, may I request that before you kill me, you at least tell me why you propose to do so. I make this request because, as a physician, I can see that you are perfectly25 sane26 and not the crank I at first thought you.”
I was regaining27 my nerve, you see; if there is one thing in this world to give a man nerve and coolness, it’s to put it right up to him to avoid the next one. At any rate, the fairness of my request must have appealed to my visitor, for he said, “Certainly I will tell you, doctor. That is only just. I kill you because you performed a critical operation on my wife, and she is dying.”
“This is all a fearful error,” I exclaimed eagerly. “I do not even know you, have never seen you p. 196nor your wife, much less operated upon her. Surgeons of my standing28 in the profession—I say this advisedly, sir—usually know whom they treat.”
“Usually they do, I grant you,” he assented29, but he emphasized the wrong word quite unpleasantly. “This has been an exception,” he added.
“Why do you believe it was I who operated?” I urged.
“My wife said so; that is sufficient for me.”
“She must surely have made the charge in delirium,” I said.
“She is not delirious30, nor has she been.”
“Where was the operation performed?”
“She refuses to tell me.”
I thought very bard31 for a minute. What kind of a predicament was this? I then said to him, “This is a serious and vital matter, sir, for both of us. Any mistake could not fail to have momentous32 consequences. Suppose you take me to confront your wife. It is probably a case of mistaken identity, and when she sees me, she will most certainly be able readily to rectify33 this awful blunder. And so sure am I of the result that I pledge you my word to accompany you without violence or outcry.”
After a moment’s reflection he said, “I accept your proposition.”
His carriage was waiting at the door. Evidently he had been desperate when he came, and fully4 prepared to face the consequences of his desperation. We drove together to his home.
In my complete certainty of my position I feasted my eyes on the luxurious34 furnishings, the costly35 rugs—I’m a lover of rugs, you know, and a bit of a connoisseur—and the exquisite36 p. 197bric-a-brac and paintings. Moreover, I now knew with whom I was dealing37, though that fact I concealed38.
We went up to the sickroom. A beautiful woman, desperately39 ill and pale as death itself, lay motionless upon the pillows. As we softly entered the room, she turned her eyes toward us, too weak to move her head.
The eyes were dull and listless, but when their glance fell on me, they literally40 flashed fire and a hard, determined41 look came into them.
“Dear,” said her husband, bending tenderly down to her, “who did you say performed that operation?”
“Dr. Harrington,” she whispered.
“I have brought him here. Is that the person who operated?”
“Yes.”
My heart just at that moment went as cold as a snowball. I saw myself ruined, broken on the wheel of Fate. The death phase of the situation didn’t matter. Worst of all, I now saw the motive42. She was shielding some bungler43, near, or more probably dear, to her—I was the victim selected by mere44 horrible chance.
I crossed softly to the bed. “Madam,” I said to her as gently as my tumult45 of feeling would permit, “I implore46 you to tell the truth. Did I perform this operation?”
With absolute self-possession she whispered, “Doctor, you did.”
I was helpless; it was a fine illustration of the terrible power of the lie as a weapon against right and honor.
“I assure you, before God,” I declared, turning to the husband, “that I was not the p. 198operating surgeon in this case. You know, possibly, my reputation for professional skill. Will you then permit me to take your wife’s temperature and to make a very brief examination with a view to determining the probable effect of her condition upon her rational faculties47?”
To my delight, he consented. With careful formality I prepared a thermometer, taking and noting the temperature both at mouth and armpit. The woman exhibited none of the repulsion she ought to have shown, by all principles of psychology48, to being examined by the author of her misfortune.
I then seated myself by the bed and felt the pulse. Taking my watch and detaching it from the chain, I placed it on the white cover of the bed beside her, where she could not fail to hear the ticking. I lifted her hands and applied49 my finger tips lightly to the arterial beat at the wrist. I looked her steadily50 in the eyes, and apparently51 gave the most minute attention to the really faint beating of her pulse.
“Madam,” I said after a long wait, “it is my solemn and painful duty to inform you that you have but fifteen minutes to live. My whole professional life is at stake here. Ruin, disgrace, and even death stare me in the face as a result of what you may say. But I do not urge this upon you. I urge you merely for God’s sake to tell the truth.”
“Doctor, you know you did it,” she whispered wearily.
I had expected that. My bit of work in experimental psychology was just beginning. I kept perfectly silent, my fingers still resting upon the patient’s wrist. The tomb itself is not more still p. 199nor more solemn than was that room. I let full five minutes pass without word or movement.
Do you know how long five minutes can be? Did you ever try a silent wait of five little minutes, even though life and death were not in the balance? Try to guess at five minutes; and if you are not skilled in counting seconds, you will call time in two. Five minutes can be an eternity52. They were so then.
“Madam,” I said again, “you have but ten minutes to live. I implore you to right the great wrong you have done.”
Why that man did not throw me out of the room I will never know. He seemed fascinated by the fearful experiment.
Again she calmly murmured, “Doctor, it was you.”
I acknowledge that then the room turned black; but I was myself in an instant. I resumed my solemn death watch. This time I deliberately53 allowed eight minutes to add themselves to the eternal past. Then I knew I was playing my last card.
“Madam,” I said as solemnly and impressively as I could speak the words, “in two minutes you will be before your God. Are you willing that your soul should face its Maker54 with the black stain upon it of the dreadful lie you have told? For your own immortal55 soul’s sake, I implore you to tell the truth.”
A feeble gesture called her husband to her side. I rose and retired56 across the room. He bent57 over her, shaken by great sobs58. She drew him down to her, kissed him and whispered, “It was not he.”
p. 200I almost fell. The revulsion of feeling was too great. Mastering myself by a supreme59 effort, I stood to hear the colloquy60 to the end.
“Who was it?” he asked.
She told him.
“You swear to this?”
“With my dying breath.”
He turned to me with a face of ashen61 paleness. “Doctor,” he gasped62, “pardon.”
I snapped shut the case of my watch. “Madam,” I said, “you will recover,” and left the room and house unmolested.
No one spoke63 for a moment. Then Carvill ejaculated under his breath, “My God!”
B. W. Mitchell.
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1
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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2
pitfalls
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| （捕猎野兽用的）陷阱( pitfall的名词复数 )； 意想不到的困难，易犯的错误 | |
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3
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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syne
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| adv.自彼时至此时，曾经 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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10
diagnosis
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| n.诊断，诊断结果，调查分析，判断 | |
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11
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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12
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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13
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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14
squelched
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| v.发吧唧声，发扑哧声( squelch的过去式和过去分词 )；制止；压制；遏制 | |
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15
insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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16
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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17
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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18
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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20
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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piquancy
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| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
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22
inane
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| adj.空虚的，愚蠢的，空洞的 | |
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23
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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24
fatalities
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| n.恶性事故( fatality的名词复数 )；死亡；致命性；命运 | |
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25
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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26
sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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27
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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28
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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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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31
bard
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| n.吟游诗人 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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33
rectify
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| v.订正，矫正，改正 | |
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34
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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35
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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36
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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39
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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40
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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41
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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42
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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43
Bungler
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| n.笨拙者，经验不够的人 | |
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44
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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45
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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46
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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47
faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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48
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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49
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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50
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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51
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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52
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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53
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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54
maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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55
immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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56
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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57
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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58
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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59
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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60
colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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61
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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62
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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63
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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