but his intellect is irretrievably affected. He thinks he is a lightning
conductor. Make way for the cab. That's right! Now help me to lead him
in. He is out of all danger now. He can dress at his hotel. If any of
you have any information to give which may throw light upon this case my
address is 81 George Street. Remember, Doctor Crabbe, 81 George Street.
Good day, kind friends, good-bye!" And with that he bundled me into the
cab to prevent my making any further disclosures, and drove off amid the
enthusiastic cheers of the admiring crowd.
I could not stay in Brisport long enough to see the effect of my _coup
d'etat_. Tom gave us a champagne supper that night, and the fun was fast
and furious, but in the midst of it a telegram from my principal was
handed in ordering me to return to Manchester by the next train. I
waited long enough to get an early copy of the _Brisport Chronicle_, and
beguiled the tedious journey by perusing the glowing account of my
mishap. A column and a half was devoted to Dr. Crabbe and the
extraordinary effects of electricity upon a drowned man. It ultimately
got into some of the London papers, and was gravely commented upon in
the _Lancet_.
As to the pecuniary success of our little experiment I can only judge
from the following letter from Tom Crabbe, which I transcribe exactly as
I received it:
"WHAT HO! MY RESUSCITATED CORPSE,
"You want to know how all goes in Brisport, I suppose. Well,
I'll tell you. I'm cutting Markham and Davidson out completely,
my boy. The day after our little joke I got a bruised leg (that
baby), a cut head (the woman the baby fell upon), an
erysipelas, and a bronchitis. Next day a fine rich cancer of
Markham's threw him up and came over to me. Also a pneumonia
and a man who swallowed a sixpence. I've never had a day since
without half a dozen new names on the list, and I'm going to
start a trap this week. Just let me know when you are going to
set up, and I'll manage to run down, old man, and give you a
start in business, if I have to stand on my head in the
water-butt. Good-bye. Love from the Missus.
"Ever yours,
"THOMAS WATERHOUSE CRABBE,
"M.B. Edin.
"81 George Street,
"Brisport."
THE END
By SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
_Novels and Stories_
DANGER! _And Other Stories_
THE DOINGS OF RAFFLES HAW
HIS LAST BOW
_Some Latin Reminiscences of Sherlock Holmes_
THE BLACK DOCTOR
_And Other Tales of Terror and Mystery_
THE MAN FROM ARCHANGEL
_And Other Tales of Adventure_
THE CROXLEY MASTER
_And Other Tales of the Ring and Camp_
THE GREAT KEINPLATZ EXPERIMENT
_And Other Tales of Twilight and the Unseen_
THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS
_And Other Tales of Long Ago_
THE DEALINGS OF CAPTAIN SHARKEY
_And Other Tales of Pirates_
_On the Life Hereafter_
THE NEW REVELATION
THE VITAL MESSAGE
THE COMING OF THE FAIRIES
THE CASE FOR SPIRIT PHOTOGRAPHY
THE WANDERINGS OF A SPIRITUALIST
OUR AMERICAN ADVENTURE
_A History of the Great War_
THE BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN FRANCE AND FLANDERS--Six Vols.
_Poems_
THE GUARDS CAME THROUGH
End of Project Gutenberg's The Man from Archangel, by A. Conan Doyle