Doctor: I have called about a dozen times to collect this bill. Slowpay: That's all right, Doc, as long as you don't charge me for every visit. HIS FIRST CASE CHAPTER 9.-The Call of Duty. Fred, watching him closely while he was talking, admitted to himself that this rival of his was a likable HE practice of medicine is sometimes fellow. He could readily see how Justina might easily exasperating work, for it interferes be attracted to a man of this type, who was jovial, mildwith many of the pleasures of life. Fred had had a checker game sched-mannered, good-looking and possessed a charming peruled for the evening with Justina. sonality. New doubts sprang up in his mind could he He was determined Had he filled the appointment, the hope to win against such a man? to try and made up his mind, then, to rush his suit services of Henry and Napoleon would not have been through to a quick finish. needed, for the strange man would have had no opportunity to molest the girl. But it was nine o'clock when he drove his car to the Ganey home and stopped, having been gone since four in the afternoon. "Don't get out, Doctor," called Mrs. Ganey from the porch. "They want you over at Colonel Darl's. I'll have supper ready for you when you get back." "All right," he answered wearily. "Who's sick there?" "Somebody that's visiting them." He touched the starter and the warm engine hummed into activity, and within three minutes he arrived at the Darl mansion, where Dawkins met him at the door and silently ushered him to the Colonel's private den, and a glance at the stranger nearly caused him to drop his handbag with surprise, for it was the blond young man who was sitting in a large easy chair with both legs elevated upon a high foot stool and covered with a sheet. "Mr. Dowlee had the misfortune to be bitten by a dog this evening," explained the Colonel, removing the sheet from his guest's limbs and showing several torn and lacerated wounds. "He only arrived today and must leave again tomorrow, so he says. I have urged him to stay, but he thinks it impossible, for pressing business compels his attention in Des Moines and he wishes to leave on the morning train. I thought you would be the most capable judge as to whether that would be possible." Fred inspected the wounds, finding seven on the right leg and five on the left. While he was inspecting them, he was also thinking, and he decided that if the blond young man wanted to leave the village, well and good. He, Fred Forson, would not discourage it, even if it were necessary to transport the charming Mr. Dowlee to the depot on a cot. "The wounds are not deep," he said, after inspect "I want you to meet my good friend, Mr. Dowlee, of ing them, "but the dog chewed you quite liberally.” Then, turning to the Colonel, he asked: "Whose dog was it?" Omaha," said Colonel Darl. The blond young man reached out his hand. “Ah! I believe we've met before," he said. "I had the pleasure of being nearly winded by the Doctor one day when he stumbled over a suitcase in the aisle of a passenger coach. Ha! ha! do you remember it, Doctor? You must excue me for not rising to greet you, but the dogs of war have chosen your village as a good place to carry on their wrath against me." He finished with a laugh. "I remember you," said Fred. "It was the day I came here. My last sight of you was when you were sprawling in the aisle, having stumbled over the same suitcase." The blond young man laughed again. "That's right," he agreed. "But you may rest assured that the suitcase was removed after I got up and talked it over with the owner." "We don't know," answered Mr. Dowlee. "I was coming from the store when he darted out from the darkness-and-well, he started the fight.' "A dog like that ought not to be allowed to run loose," declared Fred. "That's what I say," interjected the Colonel. "Thunderation! He'll kill somebody yet.” Fred opened his handbag and began the cauterization of the wounds. "How big a dog was it?" he asked. "It was pretty dark and I couldn't see," answered the suave Mr. Dowlee, smoothly. "He rushed at me so fast that I had no time to think of anything except to get away, but I think he was fairly good-sized." "Was he near any house?" asked Colonel Darl, for the tenth time since the accident. "No," lied Mr. Dowlee. "As I said, it was along the open stretch of roadway between here and the store." "That's damn funny!" exploded the Colonel. "I don't know of a dog in town that would attack a stranger that way-unless Bob Flinn's got a new one recently. He lives down the river a short distance, and if he had a dog it might easily wander this far." He pushed a button on his desk. "Yes, sir," answered Dawkins, who slipped into the room immediately. "Dawkins, have you yet thought of any vicious dog in the village?" "Only as I told you, sir. Mrs. Everett has-" "Thunderation!" yelled the Colonel, pounding his desk. "Don't tell me that again; Haven't I told you that the Everetts keep their dog at home, and that he has never disturbed anybody unless they were prowling about the premises? I suppose you will be suggesting that it was my own dog, next?” "Are you acquainted in the village?" he inquired, while working with the wounds. "Not to any extent," was the reply. "I have met Mr. Ganey and I was slightly acquainted with Miss Everett when she was in school at Oliva. I met her mother once while she was visiting there. Beside you, I believe that is the extent of my acquaintances." "Miss Everett is quite popular with us here," said Fred casually. "So she was in school," replied Mr. Dowlee, with as much unconcern. The young physician was puzzled. He knew that Justina was not the kind of girl to shed tears over a man with whom she was slightly acquainted. If this statement of a slight acquaintance was true, there was nothing to worry about. If it was not true-and he had a feeling that the shrewd Mr. Dowlee was telling a liewhy should he want to deny acquaintance with a girl that anybody else in the world would boast of? He worked slowly, taking great pains to carefully attend to Dawkins bowed. "Yes, sir; it is barely possible. I each individual wound; then he wrapped the limbs with never trust any dog, sir." "That will do!" spoke the Colonel, sharply. Dawkins disappeared. Colonel Darl savagely pushed the button again. Dawkins instantly returned. "When you are summoned to my presence, you will remain until dismissed," reprimanded the master. "What other dog is there in the village that might be responsible for this outrageous crime?" "I cannot think of any at present, sir; but, of course, my acquaintance with dogs, as the master knows, is somewhat limited, although-" "That will do!" Dawkins bowed again. "Yes, sir," he said, and then stood stiffly. "Leave the room," shouted the Colonel. "What do you mean by standing there after you are dismissed?” Dawkins bowed once more and left quietly. No sooner had he vanished than the Colonel pushed the button. "Dawkins, go to the telephone and relate the sad experience of Mr. Dowlee to Tom Ganey, and tell him that, as he is president of the board of township trustees, I demand the immediate execution of this dog." "Yes, sir." At the mention of the name of Mrs. Everett, Fred glanced at the blond young man to see if a change of expression might come over his face, but nothing indicated that he even recognized the name. wet antiseptic gauze and applied a thin layer of wet cotton over it, after which he bandaged them neatly. "I can leave, can't I, without hurting anything?" asked the patient. "I'm going to Des Moines for a few days and I can get attention there." "You had better stay," suggested the Colonel. "No," objected the blond young man, whose sole purpose in leaving was to get away from the village because of the fact that it would be rather embarrassing to meet Justina while he was still invalided from Napoleon's attack. "I've got a very important deal on hand, and I must be there tomorrow unless the doctor absolutely forbids it." Fred closed his handbag and snapped the fasteners. The departure of the blond young man would be very gratifying, but he held himself well in hand, speaking in very professional tones: "Of course, technically speaking, you should not be on your feet at all, and it might be better to remain here a few days. However, if your business is urgent and you feel that you must go, the trip to Des Moines won't hurt you, for you will not be on your feet enough to count. You can go to the station in Colonel Darl's car and get a taxicab in Des Moines." Dawkins returned. He bowed to the Colonel and spoke: "Mr. Ganey sends his sympathy, sir, and says he will be most happy to perform the execution in public, if you will produce the dog and furnish proof of his had asked him if there were any calls to make in the guilt." The Colonel boiled with rage; his face became purple; the veins stood out prominently on his forehead and neck; his eyes bulged out. He arose and doubled up both fists; holding them high above his head, he shook them violently; he stamped his feet with anger. "Thunderation!" he roared. "Tom Ganey's a fool, and you're another fool, too, Dawkins. Understand! I said you were a fool. What did you tell him, to return with that kind of a message?" Dawkins, undisturbed by the master's anger, answered evenly: "I told him, sir, of the sad experience of your guest, as you directed. Then I called his attention to his official position, as you again directed, and presented your demand for the immediate execution of the dog." "And what did he say?" "He wanted to know if I would bring the dog tonight or in the morning, and requested that the dog be muzzled when delivered." Further conversation was at that time interrupted by a loud laugh from the blond young man, but this was immediately silenced by a wave from the hand of the angered Colonel who spoke again: "Mr. Dowlee takes the occurrence in a light-hearted way, but, to me, this is a serious matter. Go and tell Tom Ganey that I am not in the mood for joking and that I do not intend to be trifled with. Tell him that I am not a dog-catcher, and that it is his duty to see that all wild and vicious animals are impounded and punished with severity commensurate to the extent of the crime-in this case, death. It is a blot upon the village, as well as upon me personally, that a guest of my house is not able to peaceably walk the streets of our hamlet without being devoured by a beast. .. Hold! Dawkins, I will tell him myself. Show Doctor Forson out." ... Fred did not sleep well that night, for many thoughts filled his brain. He pondered over the advisability of asking Justina for her hand at once, and decided that his acquaintance with her was too short for such a radical procedure, as the memory of the manner in which she had cut him short, on the night of his victory in the Johnson case, when his sentimentality was beginning to assert itself, came back to him, and he feared that sudden action might result in a complete rupture of their friendship. But at noon, when she met him on the street, an incident happened that gave him new encouragement. She afternoon, and had received a negative reply, and was starting to leave when Fred said, quite casually: "I met one of your friends last evening." "I don't doubt it," she smiled. "I have many friends, but who was the particular one you refer to?" "A gentleman visiting Colonel Darl, by the name of Dowlee. He said he knew you in Oliva, when you went to school." Justina ignored the remark. "Who was sick there?" she asked with alarm. "Was it Aunt Rena?" "No, it was Mr. Dowlee. Some vicious dog had bitten him on the legs; it was quite severe, too, but not serious. "Oh," said the girl, softly, and the way the simple remark was drawn out implied that she was not particularly interested. At the same time she dropped her eyes to the ground, and Fred, studying her, wondered if this was only her peculiar disposition asserting itself, for, even if she was intensely interested, she might not show it, such was her unemotional, steady way. But he was wrong. He had never seen her wrought up, as to temper. His next query brought forth all the pent-up wrath that she was holding with so much difficulty. "Mr. Dowlee is a charming fellow, don't you think so?" Her eyes blazed; her teeth set firm; she clenched her little fists until the nails cut into the flesh; her body was trembling with rage. She spoke with short, sharp words: "Don't you ever speak that name to me again!" corner. Then, turning abruptly, she started toward home. Fred stood gazing at her with open-mouthed astonishment until her lithe figure had disappeared around the Then he took a long breath and said to himself: "Well, you've certainly stirred up a hornet's nest." And a smile of satisfaction spread over his face: "The blond young man is out of the running, for some reason or other, so you can take things a bit easierthe prize is yours if you go after it diplomatically. Be careful, though, of that temper until you've got her; then you can laugh it away." At the table he ate only his dessert and drank his coffee, for he was not hungry, and Tom Ganey was quick to take notice. "It's a bad sign when a young fellow refuses his oats," he remarked to his wife. "I've been that way." "I'd like to know when?" asked Mrs. Ganey. "I've never seen you that way." "Of course not-that was when I was in love with you. Since I got married I've seen what a fool I was, so I've been trying to catch up. Pass the bread. ... That's our ring on the phone. Mrs. Ganey answered it. She returned at once and nodded to Fred. "Somebody wants you, Doctor." "All right." He finished his coffee with a gulp and went to answer the summons. "I wish you'd come out to my house right away," came an excited voice over the wire. "Who's talking?" he asked. "Henry Bean." "What's the trouble-gall-stones again?" "No; it isn't that. I don't know what it is, but Julia, my wife, acts awful queer. Can you come right away?" "Yes." Julia, as Henry had said, was acting most decidedly Since his return from the field at eleven-thirty she had spoken no cross word to him, and this, in itself, was enough to excite his suspicions. But, added to this strange silence was a worried, haggard look on her face, and, during the process of washing the dishes, she dropped and shattered two cups and one plate. days, provided the cause of the worry doesn't continue, and even then time will wear anything out." Henry shook his head thoughtfully, as he followed Fred to the automobile. "I don't know what it could be," he repeated. Ah, Henry Bean, little does man realize how closely a woman can guard a secret, even though she is noted for her chatter. You will never know the cause of your wife's worry from her own lips, and that questioning will do no good. She will not answer truthfully. She will evade your persistent pleadings. Innocent conversation from those passing by can do untold damage, unconsciously. "Howdy, Mrs. Bean," one of the neighbors had said that morning, greeting her from the seat of his high wagon. "Have you heard the news about Lem Hardesty?" "No; what's Lem been doing now?" "He got hold of a fiddle somewhere yesterday, and last night when the music teacher from Oliva was going home Lem called him in to see about taking lessons, and the music teacher nearly went crazy over the fiddle. He said it was an old one of some kind—I heard the name but I've forgot it-and that there wasn't very many like it in the world. He offered Lem a thousand "What's the matter, Julia, my love?" asked the fright- dollars for it and raised to twelve hundred, but Lem ened Henry. "Nothing," came the solemn reply. But Henry could see that something was the matter. for one thing, she was nervous, and this awful, foreboding silence troubled him. Why did not his beloved Julia rant and rave? When the dishes were finished she settled in a rocking chair and stared straight before her, silent, sad, depressed, as if something dreadful was on her mind. Hence, he mentioned his intention of calling the doctor, and even this did not cause an outburst. "There's something worrying her," said Fred, outside, after the examination. "Do you know what it is?" "No," answered Henry, his gray eyes moving from the distant woodland and back again in quick succession. "I don't know of anything that could be worrying her -nothing's happened, out of the ordinary." His eyes ceased their roving for a moment and fixed themselves on Fred: "She isn't dangerous, is she?" "Oh, no, nothing like that. There's no reason for you to be alarmed over her; she has no fever, no pain, the pulse is good. She says she's tired and owns up to being nervous. She's worried. You give the medicine just as I told you. It will quiet her nervousness, and it's apt to make her sleep, so don't wake her up for itsleep will do her good. She will be all right in a few wouldn't sell, because he says he can get better figures." In the evening Fred went to see Justina. He had been thinking throughout the afternoon and had half decided to put up a bold front and propose to her without delay, but now, as he entered the yard, he found his heart beating rapidly with fear. He caressed Napoleon, who came running to him with barks of glee, and, while he did so, he debated in his mind what course to pursue. When he was half way to the vine-covered porch, the screen door opened quickly and Justina stepped forth. One look at her chalkened face served to inform the young physician that she was frightened. "Oh, Doctor Forson, how glad I am to see you," she cried, running to him. "I was just going after you. Mamma has been suddenly taken with that awful pain again-worse than ever before. Hurry, please!" He dashed forward to the call of duty. Instead of spending an evening in peaceful recreation, he spent a night of damnable torture a night that Fred Forson will never forget. (To be continued.) WALTER E. ANTHONY, M. D. Ottumwa, Iowa. |