The life companion of Moehrlein embraced Hilsenhoff's knees. With
smirkings and grimacings and leers that started his shudders afresh,
she told him all. She confessed her crime and abased herself, but now
they would begin life again, and she croaked forth a string of
allurements from a throat that had known too many rich puddings. Oh,
who shall describe her transports! Never before had every fiber of her
being been so penetrated with joy! A young husband, oh, a young
husband! By as much as Moehrlein had once surpassed him, did
Hilsenhoff now surpass Moehrlein a hundred fold. And young, young,
young! She was like to fall on her face in her ecstasy. The discarded
and despised Moehrlein stood by and paid, if never before, the price
of his villainy. There is a contempt of man for man and a contempt of
woman for woman, but the contempt of woman for man----
One sleeps and is unconscious, but nonetheless by some subtle sense is
aware of the passage of time, and the thirty years that he had slept,
pressed upon young Hilsenhoff and his soul yearned to take up life
again. He looked at the companions of his youth, that youth which was
still his and had gone from them, and he looked at the place where he
had lain for a third of a century, thick with damp green mould.
Outside the song of birds was calling him, the rustle of green leaves
and the glorious sunlight, the world renewing its life with the warm
throbs of the year's youth, and putting from him forever his living
grave and the woman and her paramour, he rushed into the joyous
springtide.
Now why, my friend, descend into the hell of repinings and rage and
heart-gnawings of that woman he left behind? Or why tell of the misery
of the learned Dr. Moehrlein? She has no comfort whatsoever, but the
doctor has the solace of his kommers, so let us wish that his beer may
be forever flat, his wieners mildewy, and the mustard mouldy like the
horrible nest of young Hilsenhoff.
_What Befell Mr. Middleton Because of the Seventh Gift of the Emir._
"I did not know that such things were possible," said Mr. Middleton,
when Prince Achmed had concluded the tale of the episode of the two
Orientalists and the faithless woman. "Do I understand that the person
in this condition is asleep?"
"It is not consistent with strict scientific accuracy to say the
person is asleep," said the emir; "for the vital processes are
entirely in abeyance and the subject is devoid of any evidence of
life. The pulse is still, for the heart no longer beats and all the
blood having retreated to that inmost citadel of the body, the skin
has the pallor of death. Only in a little spot upon the crown is there
any sign of life. Here is a place warm to the touch and the first and
most important operation in restoring the suspended animation, is to
send this vital warmth forth from where it still feebly simmers,
coursing once more through the body's shrunken channels. This is
accomplished by shaving the crown and applying thereto a succession of
piping hot pancakes. The tongue has been curved back over the entrance
to the throat. You reach into the mouth and with a finger pull the
tongue back into place. Plugs of wax in the nostrils and ears are
removed, and in a very short time the subject is as well as ever."
"It is very interesting," murmured Mr. Middleton.
"Since you find it so, let me present you with a little treatise upon
the subject written by a Mohammedan hakim, or doctor of medicine,
after studying several cases of the kind at Madras, which is in
India," and at his bidding, Mesrour brought him a small portable
writing desk from which he took a manuscript scroll inscribed in the
Arabic language. "The first page," said Prince Achmed, "contains a few
thoughts upon the superiority of the Moslem faith over all others and
a discussion of the follies, inconsistencies, not to say evils of them
all when compared with that perfect religious system declared to men
by the Prophet of Mecca," and having in an orotund voice given Mr.
Middleton some idea of the contents of this page by quoting a number
of sentences, the prince handed him the sheet, which was inscribed
upon one side only. The emir continuing to give a summary of what the
hakim set forth in the remaining pages, and handing over each sheet as
he finished it, Mr. Middleton wrote in short-hand upon the blank side
of each preceding sheet what the emir culled from the one following,
omitting, of course, the contents of the first sheet, both because he
had nothing to write upon while the emir was quoting from that one,
and because its theology was entirely contrary to all Mr. Middleton
held, and, in his eyes, ridiculous and sacrilegious. When the emir had
done, Mr. Middleton had in his possession a succinct account of the
process of inducing a condition of suspended animation and of the
means of restoring the subject to his normal state. It was his
intention to write an article from his notes for some Sunday paper,
and putting the hakim's treatise in his pocket, and thanking his host
for the entertainment and instruction as well as the gift, he sought
his lodgings.
Mr. Middleton had now been admitted to the bar for some time. But the
firm of Brockelsby and Brockman did not therefore raise his salary.
They made greater demands upon his endeavors than before, for he was
now able to handle cases in court, but they did not raise his salary,
nor did they employ him upon cases where he was able to distinguish
himself, or learn new points of law and gain forensic ability. He was
employed upon humdrum and commonplace cases that were a vexation to
his spirit without any compensating advantage of pecuniary reward or
experience. While he felt that his self-respect and on one hand his
self-interests impelled him to resign his connection with Brockelsby
and Brockman, on the other hand, the very course his employers pursued
made such retirement temporarily inexpedient. For the trivial cases he
handled could neither gain him reputation enough or make him friends
enough to warrant him in setting up for himself, nor would they
attract the attention of other firms and result in offers at an
increased salary. He was in a measure forced to remain with Brockelsby
and Brockman, hoping they would be moved to pay him according to his
worth and dreaming of some contingency which might place in his hands
the management of an important case with the resulting enhancing of
his reputation.
On the morning after he had received the dissertation of the hakim,
Mr. Middleton arose with the first streak of dawn, minded to seek the
office and write his projected article before the time for his regular
duties should arrive. As he opened the door of the main office, his
ear was saluted by a low grunting sound, and there in evening dress
was Mr. Augustus Alfonso Brockelsby, reclining in a big chair, asleep,
if one could with propriety call the stupor in which he was sunk,
sleep. The disorder of his garments, the character of his
sternutations, the redness of his face, and above all, the odor he
distilled upon the chill morning air, made patent to Mr. Middleton the
disgusting fact that the senior member of the firm was drunk. On the
table before the unconscious man was a note from Mr. Brockman
informing him that he had been unexpectedly called to Lansing,
Michigan, and would not be back for a week and that therefore he,
Brockelsby, would have to attend to the important case of Ralston
versus Hippenmeyer, all by himself. Mr. Middleton at once set about
bringing his employer into a condition where he could attend to his
affairs, for the case of Ralston versus Hippenmeyer was a very
important one indeed, and as Mr. Middleton had briefed the case
himself and had his sympathies greatly excited for Johannes
Hippenmeyer, he was very anxious that their client should not lose for
default of any effort he could make. But his heart was heavy as he
brought towels and a basin of cold water from the wash-room, for after
he had done his very best, Brockelsby would still be far from the
proper form, his brain befogged, his speech thick, and the counsel for
the other side would make short work of him.
Mr. Middleton had never tried to sober a drunken man, but he had an
indistinct recollection of hearing that a towel wet with cold water,
wrapped around the head was the best remedial agent. As he soaked the
towels, he could not but compare the difference between this chill
restorative and the hot cakes in the tale of the emir, and on a sudden
there came to him a thought that sent all the gloom from his face. He
dropped the towels, he dropped the basin, and he opened the treatise
of the hakim and feverishly refreshed his memory of the details of an
operation sometimes practised in India.
An hour and a half had passed when Mr. Middleton finished. Mr.
Augustus Brockelsby still sat in the revolving chair, but he was no
longer disturbing the air with his unseemly grunts. He was, in fact,
absolutely silent, absolutely still. The keenest touch could feel no
pulsation in his wrist, the keenest eye could detect no agitation of
his chest, the keenest ear could hear no beating from the region of
the heart. For a moment as he gazed upon the result of following the
instructions set down by the hakim, Mr. Middleton felt a little clutch
of fear. But he was reassured by the lifelike appearance of the
learned jurisconsult and by the fact that the induction into his
present state had been attended by none of the manifestations that
accompany death.
"Now," said Mr. Middleton, addressing the unconscious form of Augustus
Brockelsby, "now there will be no chance of you appearing in court in
the case of Ralston versus Hippenmeyer. I will not restore you until
it is all over. I will now have the long coveted opportunity to plead
an important case and as I have studied it so carefully, I shall win.
There will now be no chance that poor little Hippenmeyer will suffer
from your disgraceful and bestial habits, for in spite of the best
that could be done for you, you would be in no fit condition to plead
a case this afternoon. And when I bring you to at fall of night, you
will think you have been drunk all day. But where will I keep you in
the meantime?"
This was a most perplexing problem. There were no closets in the suite
of offices. There were no boxes, no desks big enough to conceal a man
and Mr. Middleton's brow was beginning to contract as he struggled
with the problem, when suddenly the stillness of the room was
disturbed by some one smiting the door. Not a sound made he, for his
heart had stopped beating as completely as Brockelsby's. What should
he do, what should he do? The paralysis of fear answered for him and
supplied the best present plan and he did nothing. Then came a voice,
a voice calling him by name, the voice of Chauncy Stackelberg.
"Open up, old man, open up. I know you are there, for I heard you
knocking around before I rapped and you dropped your handkerchief
outside the door. Open up, or I'll shin right over the transom, for I
must see you," and still preserving silence, Mr. Middleton heard a
sound as of a man essaying to stand on the door knob and grasp the
transom above. He rushed to the door, unlocked it, and opening it just
enough to squeeze through, shut it behind him and thrust the key in
the lock.
"Keep still, keep still. You'll wake the old man. I can't let you in."
"Was that him, slumped down in the chair? Must be tired to sleep in
that position. Say, old chap, you were my best man, and now I want you
again."
"Want me to draw up papers for a divorce?" said Mr. Middleton,
gloomily. How was he going to get rid of this inopportune fellow?
"Shut up," said Chauncy Stackelberg. "It's a boy, and I want you to
come up to the christening next Sunday and be godfather. You don't
know how happy I am. Say, come on down and get a drink."
Ten minutes before, Mr. Middleton had been convinced that drink was a
very great curse, but he accepted this invitation with alacrity,
naming a saloon two blocks away as the one he considered best in that
vicinity. He surmised that the happy father would hardly offer to come
back with him from such a distance, and the surmise was correct. As he
reascended to the office, with him in the elevator were two gentlemen,
one of whom he recognized as Dr. Angus McAllyn, a celebrated surgeon
who had two or three times come to the office to see Mr. Brockelsby
and the other as Dr. Lucius Darst, a young eye and ear specialist who
within the space of but a few days had established his office in the
building. To neither of these gentlemen, however, was Mr. Middleton
known.
"I want you to get off on this floor with me," said Dr. McAllyn to his
medical confrere. "I may want your assistance a bit. You see," he went
on, as they got out of the elevator and started down the corridor with
Mr. Middleton just behind, "we had a banquet last night of the Society
of Andrew Jackson's Wars, and my friend Brockelsby got too much
aboard. He was turned over to me to take to his home, but just as we
were leaving, I received an urgent call. So the best I could do was to
drive by here and start him toward his office and go on. He could
navigate after a fashion and doubtless spent the night all right in
his office, and I would take no farther trouble with him but for the
fact that he has an important case to-day. So I want to fix him up,
and as I haven't much time, you can be of service to me."
"Ah, ha," said Mr. Middleton to himself, "I'll just lie low until they
have given up trying to get in and have gone."
But they did not go away. To his consternation, they opened the door
and walked in, for though he had put the key in the lock when he had
closed the door behind him to parley with Chauncy Stackelberg, he had
walked away without turning it! They would find Mr. Brockelsby! Great
though Dr. McAllyn was, he would hardly be likely to recognize a
condition of suspended animation. Unless Mr. Middleton confessed,
there was danger that the famous forensic orator would be buried
alive. And if he confessed, what would the consequences be to himself?
The fact that in whatever event he would lose his place and be a
marked and disgraced man, was the very least thing to consider. He was
threatened with far more serious dangers than that. First, there would
be the vengeance the law would take upon him for meddling with and
tampering with medical matters. But even if he had been a physician,
would the medical faculty look otherwise than with horror upon this
rash and wanton experimenting with the strange and unholy practices of
India? Even a medical man would be arrested for malpractice and for
depriving a fellow being of the use of his faculties. The penitentiary
stared him in the face.
He could not endure not to know what was taking place within. He must
have knowledge of everything in order to know what moves to make and
when to make them. He let himself through the outer door of Mr.
Brockman's private office, and by taking a position by the door
communicating between this office and the main office, he could hear
everything in safety.
"Shall I send for an undertaker?" asked Dr. Darst.
At these chilling words, Mr. Middleton was about to open the private
office door and rush in and confess all. He had begun to place the key
in the lock, when a joyful thought stayed his hand. Let them bury Mr.
Brockelsby. He would dig him up. He laughed noiselessly in his intense
relief. But hark, what does he hear?
"Darst, this is an unusual case."
"Yes?" said Dr. Darst mildly.
"A strange, a remarkable case. Darst, if we do not examine this case,
we are traitors to science. Darst, we must take him to the medical
school. When we are through, we'll sew him all again and bring him
back here, or leave him almost any place where he can be found easily.
He will be just as good to bury then as now, nobody hurt, and the
cause of science advanced. Observe, Darst, dead, absolutely dead, yet
with no rigor mortis. Dead, and yet as if he slept. If need be, we
will pursue to the inmost recesses of his being the secret of his
demise."
Mr. Middleton was nigh to falling to the floor. The succession of hope
and fear had taken from him all resolution. Of what use would it be to
exhume Mr. Brockelsby after the doctors had cut him up? The impulse to
rush in and confess had spent itself and he was now cravenly drifting
with the tide. All judgment, all power of reflection had departed from
him. He was now only a pitiable wretch with scarcely strength to stand
by the door and listen, unable to originate any thought, any action.
"How are you going to get him out of here?" asked Dr. Darst.
"In a box. You don't suppose I'd carry him down and put him in a
hack?"
"But suppose they get to looking for him? It is known that he came
here. A box goes out of here to be taken to the medical school, a long
box that might hold a man. You and I are the ones who hire the men who
carry the box."
"Who said a long box that might hold a man? It will be a short, rather
tall box, packing-case shape. Remember, he is as limber as you are and
can be accommodated to any position. He will be put in it sitting bolt
upright. It will be only half the length of a man, with nothing in its
shape to suggest that it might hold a man. Who said take it to the
medical school from here? I hire a drayman to take a box to the Union
Depot. He dumps it there on the sidewalk near the places for in-going
and out-going baggage. Ostensibly going to carry it as excess baggage.
We fiddle around until he goes, then call up some other drayman in the
crowd hanging about and take a box just arrived from Milwaukee, St.
Paul, any place the drayman wants to think, out to the college. As for
the inquiry that will be made concerning the whereabouts of
Brockelsby, rest easy on that point. He frequently goes off on sprees
of several days' duration and his absence from home is of such common
occurrence that his wife won't begin to hunt him up until we are
through with him and have got him back here, or have dumped him in
front of some building with his neck broken, showing that he fell out
of some story above."
All this Mr. Middleton heard as he leaned against the door jamb,
swallowing, swallowing, with never a thing in his mouth since the
night before, yet swallowing. He heard Dr. Darst go after a box. He
heard men deposit it in the corridor outside. He heard the two doctors
take it in when the men had gone. He heard it go heavily out into the
corridor again after a long interval. He heard more men come, come to
carry it away, and he pulled himself together with a supreme effort
and followed. He saw the box loaded on a dray. With his eye constantly
on it, he threaded his way through the crowd on the sidewalk, followed
it on its way across the river to the Union Depot. With never a hope
in his heart that anything could possibly occur to save him from a
final confession and its consequences, humanlike postponing the evil
hour as long as he could.
The box was dumped upon the sidewalk before the depot. The two medical
men stood leaning upon it, waiting for the drayman to depart. The evil
moment had arrived. Once away from the depot, in the less congested
streets in the direction of the medical college, the dray would go too
fast for him to follow. He approached. He must speak now. No, no. He
need not follow the dray. That was not necessary. He could get to the
medical school before they could have time to do injury to Mr.
Brockelsby. It would be safe to let the box get out of his sight for
that little time. He would tell at the medical college.
"Yes, as soon as we get him there," said Dr. McAllyn, "we'll put him
in the pickle."
Mr. Middleton sprang forward and put an appealing hand upon the
shoulder of either doctor. With a sudden start that caused him to
start in turn, each wheeled about. For a moment, he could say nothing
and stood with palsied lips while they gave back his stare. Gave back
his stare? All at once his mouth came open and these were the words he
heard issue forth:
"Sirs, I arrest you for stealing the body of Mr. Augustus Alfonso
Brockelsby, attorney-at-law."
He who had just now been an abject, grovelling wretch, was of a sudden
come to be a lord among men. The practitioners making no reply, he
continued:
"Are you going to be sensible enough to make no trouble, or shall I
have to call yonder officer?"
Mr. Middleton considered this quite a master stroke. By the assumption
of a pretended authority over the neighboring policeman he would
forestall any possibility of resistance and question as to what
authority he represented. But he need have had no fears on this score.
The doctors were too alarmed to do otherwise than submit to his
pleasure, too thoroughly convinced that none but a detective could
have had knowledge of the contents of the box. But Dr. McAllyn did
attach a significance to what Mr. Middleton had said, a significance
natural to one so well acquainted with the devious ways of the great
city as he was.
"Well," he said, with a sardonic smile, "you needn't call in help. We
stand pat. How much is it going to cost us?"
Then did Mr. Middleton perceive he was delivered from a dilemma, a
dilemma unforeseen, but which even if foreseen, he could not have
forearmed against. After he had arrested the doctors, how would he
have disposed of them and the box containing Mr. Brockelsby? How could
he have released the doctors and carried off the box in a manner that
would not excite their suspicions? If he had, in pretended leniency
and soft-heartedness told them they were free, the absence of any
apparent motive for this action would have instantly caused them to
suspect that for some unknown and probably unrighteous reason, he
desired possession of the body of Mr. Brockelsby and thus would ensue
a series of complications that would make the ruse of the arrest but a
leap from the frying pan into the fire. But now Dr. McAllyn had
supplied the motive.
"Sirs," said Mr. Middleton, with an air of virtue that was well suited
to the character of the sentiments he now began to enunciate, "you
deserve punishment. You have been taken in the act of committing a
crime that is particularly revolting,--stealing a corpse. Dr. McAllyn,
you have been apprehended in foul treason against friendship. You have
stolen the body of a comrade. You have meditated cruel and shocking
mutilation of this body, giving to the horror-stricken eyes of the
frantic widow the mangled and defaced flesh that was once the goodly
person of her husband, leaving her to waste her life in vain and
terrible speculations as to where and how he encountered this awful
death with its so dreadful wounds."
"It was for the sake of science," interpolated Dr. McAllyn, in no
little indignation. "If from the insensible clay of the dead we may
learn that which will save suffering and prolong existence for the
living, well may we disregard the ancient and ridiculous sentiment
regarding corpses, a relic of the ancient heathen days when it was
believed that this selfsame body of this life was worn again in
another world."
"I will not engage in an antiquarian discussion with you, sir, as to
the origin of this sentiment. Suffice to say it exists and is one of
the most powerful sentiments that rules mankind. You have attempted to
violate it, to outrage it. However you may look upon your action, the
penitentiary awaits you. Yet one can well hesitate to pronounce the
word that condemns a fellow man to that living death. It is not the
mere punishment itself. The dragging years will pass, but what will
you be when they have passed? We no longer brand the persons of
convicts, but none the less does the iron sear their souls and none
the less does the world see with its mind's eye the scorched word
'convict' on their brows, so long as they live. In the capacity of
judge, were I one, I might use such limit of discretion as the law
allows in making your punishment lighter or heavier, but the disgrace
of it, no one can mitigate. Therefore, that you may receive some
measure of the punishment you deserve, and yet not be blasted for
life, I will accept a monetary consideration and set you free."
"Oh, you will, will you?" said Dr. McAllyn. "How much lighter or
heavier will you in your capacity as judge make this impost?"
"I will not take my time in replying to your slurs in kind. You, Dr.
McAllyn, as the one primarily responsible, as the leader who induced
Dr. Darst to enter this conspiracy, as the one most to be reproached,
in that Mr. Brockelsby was your friend, as the one by far the most
able to pay, you shall pay $1,200. Dr. Darst shall pay $200. This is a
punishment by no means commensurate with your crime. By this forfeit,
shall you escape prison and disgrace."
"Of course you know that I have no such sum as that about me," said
Dr. McAllyn. "I will write you a check."
"I am not so green as I look," said Mr. Middleton, assuming an easy
sitting posture upon the box containing the mortal envelope of Mr.
Brockelsby. "You may dispatch Dr. Darst with a check to get the money
for you and himself. You will remain here as a hostage until his
return."