'Doc.' Gordon

by Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman

  CHAPTER VI

  Even the apple-jack and euchre at Georgie K.'s were not sufficient toentirely establish Doctor Gordon in his devil-may-care mood. Georgie K.kept looking at him with solicitation, which had something tender aboutit. "Don't you feel well, Doc?" he asked.

  "Never felt better in my life," returned Gordon quickly. "To-night I amfeeling particularly good, because I really think I have evolved anutterly new theory of death and disease which ought to make me famous,if I ever get a chance to write a book about it."

  Georgie K. stared at him inquiringly.

  "I don't know that you will understand, old man," said Gordon, "but hereit is. It is simple in one way. Nobody will deny that we come of theearth; well, we are sick and die of the earth. We grow old and weary anddrop into our graves, because of the tremendous, though unconscious andinvoluntary, wear upon nerves and muscles and emotion which is requiredto keep us here at all. Gravitation kills us all in the end, just assurely as if we fell off a precipice. Gravitation is the destroyer, andgravitation is earth-force. The same monster which produces us devoursus. That's so. I hope I shall get a chance to write that book. Clubs aretrumps; pass."

  "Sure you are well, Doc?" inquired Georgie K., again scowling anxiously.

  "Never felt better, didn't I just say so? You are a regular old hen,Georgie K. You cluck at a fellow like a setting hen at one chicken."

  Still Doctor Gordon's gloomy face, although he tried to be jocular, didnot relax. Going home late that night, or rather early next morning, helaid his hand heavily on James's shoulder.

  "Boy, I am about at the finish!" he groaned out.

  "Now, see here, Doctor Gordon, can't I be of some assistance if you wereto tell me?" asked James. He passed his hand under the older man's arm,and helped him through a snowdrift as if he had been his father. A greatcompassion filled his heart.

  But Gordon only groaned out a great sigh. "No," he said. "Secrecy is theone shield I have. I don't say weapon, but shield. In these latter dayswe try to content ourselves with shields; and secrecy is the strongestshield on earth. If I were going to commit a crime, I should never evenintimate the slightest motive for it to any man living. I should trustno man living to help me through with it."

  James felt a vague horror steal over him. He tried to speak lightly tocover it. "I trust there is no question of crime?" he said, laughing.

  "Not the slightest," replied Gordon. "I have no intention to use aweapon, but my shield I must stick to. Thank the Lord, you were awakelast night, and to-night Clemency is in another room. By the way, I havebought a dog."

  "A dog?"

  "Yes, a bull terrier, well trained, but he has a voice like a whole packof hounds. Clemency likes dogs. I will venture that no one comes nearthe house after this without waking him up."

  "You will keep him tied though."

  "Yes, unless I get driven too far," replied Gordon grimly.

  "Does Mrs. Ewing like dogs?"

  "She is as fond of them as Clemency."

  When, the next day, the dog arrived James was assured of the fact thatboth Clemency and Mrs. Ewing did like dogs. They seemed more pleasedthan he had ever seen them, and the dog responded readily to theiradvances. He was a splendid specimen of his breed, very large, without aspot on his white coat, and with beautiful eyes. Doctor Gordon had astaple fixed in the vestibule, and the dog was leashed to it at night."I can't have my patients driven away," he said with a laugh.

  That evening Doctor Gordon had a call, and he took Aaron with him. Thatleft James alone with Clemency, as Mrs. Ewing retired almost immediatelyafter Doctor Gordon left.

  After the jingle of the sleigh-bells had died away Clemency laid downher work and looked at James. The new dog was lying at her feet. "UncleTom bought this dog on account of him," she said. As she spoke, she gavean odd significant gesture over her shoulder as if the man were there,and a look of horror came over her face. Immediately the dog growled,and sprang up, raced to the door, and let forth a volley of howls andbarks. "He knows," said Clemency. "Isn't it queer? That dog knows thereis something wrong just by the way I spoke and looked."

  James himself was not quite so sure. He glanced at the closed shutters.Then he went himself to the door to be sure that it was bolted as usual,and through into the study. Everything was fast, but the dog continuedto race wildly back and forth from door to windows, barking wildly, witha slender crest of hair erect on his glossy white back. Emma, the maid,came in from the kitchen, and met James and Clemency in the hall. Shelooked white, and was trembling. "I know there was somebody about thehouse," she said.

  James hesitated. He thought of a possible patient. Still there had beenno ring at the office door. He considered a moment. Then he sentClemency, the maid, and the dog back into the parlor, and before heopened the outer door of the office he locked the other whichcommunicated with the rest of the house, and put the key in his pocket.Then he threw open the outer door and called, "Anybody there?"

  Utter silence answered him. He looked into a black wall of night. It wasnot snowing, but the clouds were low and thick, and no stars werevisible. He called again in a shout, "Hullo there! Who is it?" andobtained no response. Then he closed the door, fastened it, and returnedto the living-room. "I guess you were right," he said to Clemency.

  "Yes, I think so," said Clemency. She spoke to Emma. "Jack acted sobecause of something I said to Doctor Elliot," she added. "He thoughtsomething was wrong. He is very intelligent." The dog was again lying ather feet.

  But Emma shook her head obstinately. She was the middle-aged daughter ofa New Jersey farmer, and had lived with the family ever since they hadresided in Alton. She had a harsh face, although rather good-looking, "Ihave been used to dogs all my life," said she, "and I never knowed a dogto act like that unless there was somebody about the house."

  "Well, I have done all I could," said James. "I called out the officedoor, and nobody answered. It could not have been a patient."

  "There was somebody about the house," repeated Emma. "Well, I must goand mix up the bread."

  When she was gone, Clemency looked palely at James. "Oh," she said, "doyou think it could have been that man?"

  "No," replied James firmly; "it must have been your gesture. That is avery intelligent dog, and dogs have imagination. He imagined somethingwrong."

  "I hope it was that," said Clemency faintly. "It seems to me I shoulddie if I thought that terrible man were hanging about the house. It isbad enough never to be able to go out of doors."

  "Doctor Gordon says I may take you out driving some evening," said Jamesconsolingly.

  Clemency looked at him with a brightening face. "Did he?"

  "Yes."

  Then to James's utter surprise Clemency broke down, and began to cry."Oh," she wailed, "I don't know as I want to go. I am afraid all thetime. If we were out driving, and he came up to the horse's head, whatcould we do?"

  "He would get a cut across the face that he would remember," Jamesreturned fiercely.

  "But he would see me."

  "It would be dark."

  "He might have a lantern."

  "You can wear a thick veil."

  Clemency sobbed harder than ever. "Oh, no," she wailed, "I don't want togo so, in the dark, with a thick veil over my face, thinking everyminute he may come. Oh, no, I don't want to go."

  "You poor little soul," said James, and there was something in his voicewhich he himself had never heard before. Clemency glanced up at himquickly, and he saw as plainly as if he had been looking in a glasshimself in her blue eyes. Instantly emotions of which he had dreamed,but never experienced, leaped up in his heart like flame. He knew thathe loved Clemency. What he had felt for her mother had been passionlessworship, giving all, and asking nothing. This was love which asked aswell as gave. "Clemency," he began, and his voice was hoarse withemotion. She turned her head away, the tears were still on her cheeks,but they were very red, and her cheeks were dimpling involuntarily.

  "Well?" she whispered.

  "D
o you care anything about--me?"

  Clemency nodded, still keeping her face averted.

  "That means--"

  Clemency said nothing.

  "That means you love me," James whispered.

  Clemency nodded again. Then she turned her head slowly, and gave him anarrow blue glance, and smiled like a shy child.

  "I was afraid--" she began.

  "Afraid of what, dear?" James put his arm about the girl, and theashe-blonde head dropped on his shoulder.

  "Afraid you--didn't."

  "Afraid I didn't care?"

  Clemency nodded against his breast.

  "I think I must have cared all the time, only at first, when I saw yourmother--"

  Clemency raised her head immediately and gave it an indignant toss."There," said she. "I knew it. Very well, if you would rather be mystepfather, you can, only I think you would be a pretty one, no older,to speak of, than I am, and I know my mother wouldn't have you anyway.The idea of your thinking that my mother would get married again anyway,and especially to you," Clemency said witheringly. She sat up straightand looked at James. "I wish your father were a widower, then I wouldmarry him the minute he asked me," said she, "and see how you wouldlike it. I guess you would have a step-mother who would make you walkchalk." Clemency tossed her head again. Then she gave a queer littlewhimsical glance at James, and both of them burst out laughing, and shewas in his arms again, and he was kissing her. "There, that is enough,"said she presently. "I once wore out a doll I had kissing her. She waswax, and it was warm weather, and I actually did wear that doll out. Thecolor all came off her cheeks, and she got soft."

  "You are not a doll, darling," said James fervently, and he would havekissed her again, but she pushed him away. "No," said she, "I know thecolor won't come off my cheeks, but I might get soft like that doll. Onecan never tell. You must stop now. I want to talk to you. It is allright about my mother."

  "It was only because I never saw such a woman in all my life before,"said James. "I never thought of marrying."

  "You would have had to take it out in thinking," said Clemency, "but itis all right. I think myself that my mother is the most wonderful womanthat ever lived. I think the old Greek goddesses must have looked justlike her. I don't wonder you felt so about her. I don't know as I shouldhave thought much of you if you hadn't. Why, everybody falls down andworships her. Of course I know that I am nothing compared to her. Ishould be angry if you really thought so."

  "I don't think so in one way," James said honestly. "I don't think youare as beautiful as your mother, but I love you, Clemency."

  "Well, that will do for me," said Clemency. "No, you need not kiss meagain. I think myself I shall make you a better wife than astepdaughter. You need not think for one minute that I would have mindedyou as I do Uncle Tom."

  "But you will have to when we are married," said James.

  Clemency blushed and quivered. "Well, maybe I will," she whispered. "Isuppose I shall be just enough of a fool to stay in the house, if youorder me, the way I do when Uncle Tom does."

  "You shall stay in the house for no man alive when I have you incharge," said James. "Clemency--"

  "What?"

  "I will take you out now, if you say so. I can protect you."

  "I know you can," Clemency said, "but I guess we had better not. You seeUncle Tom doesn't know yet, and he will be coming home, and--"

  "I am going to tell him just as soon as he does," declared James.

  "I wonder if you had better not wait," Clemency said thoughtfully.

  "Wait? Why?"

  "Nothing, only poor Uncle Tom is frightfully worried about somethingnow. He worries about that dreadful man, and I am afraid he worriesabout mother. I don't know exactly what he worries about; but I don'twant him worried about anything else."

  "I can't see for the life of me why he should worry about this," saidJames with a piqued air. He was, in fact, considering quite naively thathe was not a bad match, taking into consideration his prospects, andClemency evidently needed all the protection she could get.

  Clemency understood directly what his tone implied. "Oh, goodness," saidshe, "of course, as far as you are concerned, Uncle Tom will be pleased.Why shouldn't he? and so will mother. Here you are young and handsome,and well educated, and good, what more could anybody want for a girl,unless they were on the lookout for a ducal coronet or something of thatsort? It isn't that, only there is something queer, there must besomething queer, about that man, and I don't know how much this mightcomplicate it. I don't know but Uncle Tom might have more occasion toworry."

  "I don't see why," said James mystified, "but I'll wait a few days ifyou say so, only I hate to have anything underhanded, you know. Howabout your mother?"

  "Please wait and tell her when you tell Uncle Tom," pleaded Clemency.All the time she was completely deceiving the young man. What she wasreally afraid of was that James himself might run into danger from thismysterious persecutor of hers if the fact of her betrothal became known."I shall not mind staying in the house at all now," she added. Anexpression came over her face which James did not understand, which noman would have understood. Clemency was wonderfully skilled atneedle-work, and she had plenty of material in the house. She wasreflecting innocently how she could begin at once upon some daintylittle frills for her trousseau. A delight, purely feminine, filled herfair little face.

  "All the same," said James, "I am going to take you out before long. Youmust have some fresh air."

  "I don't mind," said Clemency, then she broke off suddenly. She ran tothe farther end of the room, sat down, and snatched a book from thetable and opened it in the middle, "It is Uncle Tom," she remarked.

  James laughed, crossed the room swiftly, kissed her, then went into theoffice to greet Doctor Gordon. Doctor Gordon stood by the office firetaking off his overcoat. He looked gloomier than usual. "Who is inthere?" he asked, pointing to the living-room wall.

  "Your niece," answered James. He felt himself color, but the other mandid not notice it.

  "Mrs. Ewing has gone to bed?"

  "Yes, went directly after you left."

  Doctor Gordon's face grew darker. He had tossed his coat over a chair,and stood staring absently at the table with its prismatic lights.

  "I know where he is," he said presently in a whisper.

  "You mean?"

  "Yes," said Doctor Gordon impatiently. "You know whom I mean. I saw himgo in--well, no matter where."

  "I suspect that he has been hanging about here," said James.

  "What makes you think so?"

  "The dog barked and acted queer."

  "Dogs always did hate him," said Doctor Gordon, with a queer expression.Then he gave himself a shake. Here he said: "Let's have something hotand a smoke." He called to Emma to bring some hot water and sugar andlemons and glasses. Then he produced a bottle from a cabinet in theoffice, and himself brewed a sort of punch, the like of which James hadnever tasted before.

  "That's my own recipe," said Doctor Gordon, laughing. "Nobody knows whatit is, not even Georgie K. But--" he hesitated a little, then he addedlaughing, "I have left it in my will for Georgie K. I made my will somelittle time ago."

  James felt it incumbent upon himself to say something about DoctorGordon being still a young man comparatively, and healthy. To hissanguine young mind a will seemed ominous.

  "Well, I have not reached the allotted span," Gordon replied, "buthealthier men than I have come to their end sooner than they expected,and I wanted to make sure of some things. I wanted especially to makesure that Clemency--Mrs. Ewing has relatives in the West, and--"

  James felt somewhat bewildered. He could not quite see what Gordonmeant, but he took another sip of the golden, fragrant compound beforehim, and again remarked upon its excellence.

  "That makes me think," said Gordon, evidently glad himself to turn theconversation. "A sip of this will do poor little Clemency good. You sayshe is in the parlor."

  "Yes."

  Gordon opened the
door and called Clemency, who came with a littlereluctance. The girl was afraid of her uncle's eyes. She sidled into theoffice like a child who had done something wrong. She took her littleglass of punch, and never looked at James or her uncle. James, too, didnot look at her. He smoked, and almost turned his back upon her. DoctorGordon looked from one to the other, and his face changed. Clemencyslipped out as soon as she could, saying that she was tired. ThenGordon turned abruptly upon James. "There is something between you two,Clemency and you," he said in a brusque voice.

  James colored and hesitated.

  "Out with it," said Gordon peremptorily.

  "Clemency wished--" began James.

  "Wished you to keep it secret, of course. Well, she told me herself,poor little soul, the moment she came into the room."

  James sat still. He did not know what to do. Finally he said in astammering voice that he hoped there would be no objection.

  "No objection certainly on my part or Mrs. Ewing, if Clemency has takena fancy to you," replied Doctor Gordon. "But--" he hesitated a moment."It is only fair to tell you that you yourself may later on entertainsome very reasonable objection," Gordon said grimly.

  "It is impossible," James cried eagerly. "I have known her only a fewweeks, but I feel as if it were a lifetime. Nothing can change me. Andas for money, if you mean anything of that kind, I don't care if shehasn't a cent. I have my profession, and my father is well-to-do. Then,besides, I have a little that an aunt, my mother's sister, left me. Ican support Clemency."

  "It is not that," Gordon said. "Clemency has--at least I think I cansecure it to her--a little fortune of her own, and she will havesomething besides. I was not thinking of money at all."

  "Then there can be nothing," James said positively. His sense ofembarrassment had passed. He beamed at the older man.

  "There can be something else. There is something else," Gordon saidgloomily. "I don't know but I ought to tell you, but, the truth is, youknow my theory with regard to secrecy. I don't doubt but you can holdyour tongue, yet the whole affair is so dangerous, that I dare not, Icannot, tell you yet. I can only say this, that there does exist someobstacle to your marriage with my niece, and your engagement must beregarded by myself in a tentative light. If the time ever comes when youknow all, and wish to withdraw, you can do so in my opinion with perfecthonor. In the meantime you had better say nothing to any one outside.You had better not even tell Mrs. Ewing. I hope Clemency herself willnot. Perhaps when she has had a few hours in which to collect herself,her face will not be quite so tell-tale."

  "Nothing whatever can change me," said James, with almost anger.

  Gordon shook his head. "I begin to think I may have done you a wronghaving you come here at all," he said. "I suppose I ought to havethought of the possibility, but I have had so much on my mind."

  "You have done me the greatest good I ever had done me in my wholelife," James said fervently.

  Gordon rose and shook the young man's hand. "As far as Clemency and Iand Mrs. Ewing are concerned," he said, "nothing could have been better.Well, we will hope for the best, my boy." He clapped James on theshoulder and smiled, and James went to his room feeling dizzy withhappiness and mystery, and a trifle so with the doctor's punch.