"No more nonsense, my boy; it must be done. Gentlemen, allow me to
introduce Mr. Hippolyte, one of the most original, ingenious, and
skilful machinists in the country."
Hippolyte, being modest, blushed as he bowed. In order to conceal his
confusion he unrolled his apron on the table with considerable noise of
rattling tools.
"I have to make some preparations before you may begin, Hippolyte, and
I want you to observe me that you may become used not only to the sight
of fresh blood, but also, what is more trying, the odor of it."
Hippolyte shivered. Entrefort opened a case of surgical instruments.
"Now, doctor, the chloroform," he said, to Dr. Rowell.
"I will not take it," promptly interposed the sufferer; "I want to know
when I die."
"Very well," said Entrefort; "but you have little nerve now to spare.
We may try it without chloroform, however. It will be better if you can
do without. Try your best to lie still while I cut."
"What are you going to do?" asked Arnold.
"Save your life, if possible."
"How? Tell me all about it."
"Must you know?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then. The point of the stiletto has passed entirely through
the aorta, which is the great vessel rising out of the heart and
carrying the aerated blood to the arteries. If I should withdraw the
weapon the blood would rush from the two holes in the aorta and you
would soon be dead. If the weapon had been a knife, the parted tissue
would have yielded, and the blood would have been forced out on either
side of the blade and would have caused death. As it is, not a drop of
blood has escaped from the aorta into the thoracic cavity. All that is
left for us to do, then, is to allow the stiletto to remain permanently
in the aorta. Many difficulties at once present themselves, and I do
not wonder at Dr. Rowell's look of surprise and incredulity."
That gentleman smiled and shook his head.
"It is a desperate chance," continued Entrefort, "and is a novel case
in surgery; but it is the only chance. The fact that the weapon is a
stiletto is the important point--a stupid weapon, but a blessing to us
now. If the assassin had known more she would have used----"
Upon his employment of the noun "assassin" and the feminine pronoun
"she," both Arnold and I started violently, and I cried out to the man
to stop.
"Let him proceed," said Arnold, who, by a remarkable effort, had calmed
himself.
"Not if the subject is painful," Entrefort said.
"It is not," protested Arnold; "why do you think the blow was struck by
a woman?"
"Because, first, no man capable of being an assassin would use so gaudy
and valuable a weapon; second, no man would be so stupid as to carry so
antiquated and inadequate a thing as a stiletto, when that most
murderous and satisfactory of all penetrating and cutting weapons, the
bowie-knife, is available. She was a strong woman, too, for it requires
a good hand to drive a stiletto to the guard, even though it miss the
sternum by a hair's breadth and slip between the ribs, for the muscles
here are hard and the intercostal spaces narrow. She was not only a
strong woman, but a desperate one also."
"That will do," said Arnold. He beckoned me to bend closer. "You must
watch this man; he is too sharp; he is dangerous."
"Then," resumed Entrefort, "I shall tell you what I intend to do. There
will undoubtedly be inflammation of the aorta, which, if it persist,
will cause a fatal aneurism by a breaking down of the aortal walls; but
we hope, with the help of your youth and health, to check it.
"Another serious difficulty is this: With every inhalation, the entire
thorax (or bony structure of the chest) considerably expands. The aorta
remains stationary. You will see, therefore, that as your aorta and
your breast are now held in rigid relation to each other by the
stiletto, the chest, with every inhalation, pulls the aorta forward out
of place about half an inch. I am certain that it is doing this,
because there is no indication of an escape of arterial blood into the
thoracic cavity; in other words, the mouths of the two aortal wounds
have seized upon the blade with a firm hold and thus prevent it from
slipping in and out. This is a very fortunate occurrence, but one which
will cause pain for some time. The aorta, you may understand, being
made by the stiletto to move with the breathing, pulls the heart
backward and forward with every breath you take; but that organ, though
now undoubtedly much surprised, will accustom itself to its new
condition.
"What I fear most, however, is the formation of a clot around the
blade. You see, the presence of the blade in the aorta has already
reduced the blood-carrying capacity of that vessel; a clot, therefore,
need not be very large to stop up the aorta, and, of course, if that
should occur death would ensue. But the clot, if one form, may be
dislodged and driven forward, in which event it may lodge in any one of
the numerous branches from the aorta and produce results more or less
serious, possibly fatal. If, for instance, it should choke either the
right or the left carotid, there would ensue atrophy of one side of the
brain, and consequently paralysis of half the entire body; but it is
possible that in time there would come about a secondary circulation
from the other side of the brain, and thus restore a healthy condition.
Or the clot (which, in passing always from larger arteries to smaller,
must unavoidably find one not sufficiently large to carry it, and must
lodge somewhere) may either necessitate amputation of one of the four
limbs or lodge itself so deep within the body that it cannot be reached
with the knife. You are beginning to realize some of the dangers which
await you."
Arnold smiled faintly.
"But we shall do our best to prevent the formation of a clot,"
continued Entrefort; "there are drugs which may be used with effect."
"Are there more dangers?"
"Many more; some of the more serious have not been mentioned. One of
these is the probability of the aortal tissues pressing upon the weapon
relaxing their hold and allowing the blade to slip. That would let out
the blood and cause death. I am uncertain whether the hold is now
maintained by the pressure of the tissues or the adhesive quality of
the serum which was set free by the puncture. I am convinced, though,
that in either event the hold is easily broken and that it may give way
at any moment, for it is under several kinds of strains. Every time the
heart contracts and crowds the blood into the aorta, the latter expands
a little, and then contracts when the pressure is removed. Any unusual
exercise or excitement produces stronger and quicker heart-beats, and
increases the strain on the adhesion of the aorta to the weapon. A
fright, fall, a jump, a blow on the chest--any of these might so jar
the heart and aorta as to break the hold."
Entrefort stopped.
"Is that all?" asked Arnold.
"No; but is not that enough?"
"More than enough," said Arnold, with a sudden and dangerous sparkle in
his eyes. Before any of us could think, the desperate fellow had seized
the handle of the stiletto with both hands in a determined effort to
withdraw it and die. I had had no time to order my faculties to the
movement of a muscle, when Entrefort, with incredible alertness and
swiftness, had Arnold's wrists. Slowly Arnold relaxed his hold.
"There, now!" said Entrefort, soothingly; "that was a careless act and
might have broken the adhesion! You'll have to be careful."
Arnold looked at him with a curious combination of expressions.
"Dr. Entrefort," he quietly remarked, "you are the devil."
Bowing profoundly, Entrefort replied: "You do me too great honor;" then
he whispered to his patient: "If you do _that_"--with a motion towards
the hilt--"I will have _her_ hanged for murder."
Arnold started and choked, and a look of horror overspread his face. He
withdrew his hands, took one of mine in both of his, threw his arms
upon the pillow above his head, and, holding my hand, firmly said to
Entrefort,--
"Proceed with your work."
"Come closer, Hippolyte," said Entrefort, "and observe narrowly. Will
you kindly assist me, Dr. Rowell?" That gentleman had sat in wondering
silence.
Entrefort's hand was quick and sure, and he used the knife with
marvellous dexterity. First he made four equidistant incisions outward
from the guard and just through the skin. Arnold held his breath and
ground his teeth at the first cut, but soon regained command of
himself. Each incision was about two inches long. Hippolyte shuddered
and turned his head aside. Entrefort, whom nothing escaped,
exclaimed,--
"Steady, Hippolyte! Observe!"
Quickly was the skin peeled back to the limit of the incisions. This
must have been excruciatingly painful. Arnold groaned, and his hands
were moist and cold. Down sank the knife into the flesh from which the
skin had been raised, and blood flowed freely; Dr. Rowell handled the
sponge. The keen knife worked rapidly. Arnold's marvellous nerve was
breaking down. He clutched my hand fiercely; his eyes danced; his mind
was weakening. Almost in a moment the flesh had been cut away to the
bones, which were now exposed,--two ribs and the sternum. A few quick
cuts cleared the weapon between the guard and the ribs.
"To work, Hippolyte--be quick!"
The machinist had evidently been coached before he came. With slender,
long-fingered hands, which trembled at first, he selected certain tools
with nice precision, made some rapid measurements of the weapon and of
the cleared space around it, and began to adjust the parts of a queer
little machine. Arnold watched him curiously.
"What----" he began to say; but he ceased; a deeper pallor set on his
face, his hands relaxed, and his eyelids fell.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Entrefort; "he has fainted--he can't stop us
now. Quick, Hippolyte!"
The machinist attached the queer little machine to the handle of the
weapon, seized the stiletto in his left hand, and with his right began
a series of sharp, rapid movements backward and forward.
"Hurry, Hippolyte!" urged Entrefort.
"The metal is very hard."
"Is it cutting?"
"I can't see for the blood."
In another moment something snapped. Hippolyte started; he was very
nervous. He removed the little machine.
"The metal is very hard," he said; "it breaks the saws."
He adjusted another tiny saw and resumed work. After a little while he
picked up the handle of the stiletto and laid it on the table. He had
cut it off, leaving the blade inside Arnold's body.
"Good, Hippolyte!" exclaimed Entrefort. In a minute he had closed the
bright end of the blade from view by drawing together the skin-flaps
and sewing them firmly.
Arnold returned to consciousness and glanced down at his breast. He
seemed puzzled. "Where is the weapon?" he asked.
"Here is part of it," answered Entrefort, holding up the handle.
"And the blade----"
"That is an irremovable part of your internal machinery." Arnold was
silent. "It had to be cut off," pursued Entrefort, "not only because it
would be troublesome and an undesirable ornament, but also because it
was advisable to remove every possibility of its withdrawal." Arnold
said nothing. "Here is a prescription," said Entrefort; "take the
medicine as directed for the next five years without fail."
"What for? I see that it contains muriatic acid."
"If necessary I will explain five years from now."
"If I live."
"If you live."
Arnold drew me down to him and whispered, "Tell her to fly at once;
this man may make trouble for her."
Was there ever a more generous fellow?
* * * * *
I thought that I recognized a thin, pale, bright face among the
passengers who were leaving an Australian steamer which had just
arrived at San Francisco.
"Dr. Entrefort!" I cried.
"Ah!" he said, peering up into my face and grasping my hand; "I know
you now, but you have changed. You remember that I was called away
immediately after I had performed that crazy operation on your friend.
I have spent the intervening four years in India, China, Tibet,
Siberia, the South Seas, and God knows where not. But wasn't that a
most absurd, hare-brained experiment that I tried on your friend!
Still, it was all that could have been done. I have dropped all that
nonsense long ago. It is better, for more reasons than one, to let them
die at once. Poor fellow! he bore it so bravely! Did he suffer much
afterwards? How long did he live? A week--perhaps a month?"
"He is alive yet."
"What!" exclaimed Entrefort, startled.
"He is, indeed, and is in this city."
"Incredible!"
"It is true; you shall see him."
"But tell me about him now!" cried the surgeon, his eager eyes
glittering with the peculiar light which I had seen in them on the
night of the operation. "Has he regularly taken the medicine which I
prescribed?"
"He has. Well, the change in him, from what he was before the
operation, is shocking. Imagine a young dare-devil of twenty-two, who
had no greater fear of danger or death than of a cold, now a cringing,
cowering fellow; apparently an old man, nursing his life with pitiful
tenderness, fearful that at any moment something may happen to break
the hold of his aorta-walls on the stiletto-blade; a confirmed
hypochondriac, peevish, melancholic, unhappy in the extreme. He keeps
himself confined as closely as possible, avoiding all excitement and
exercise, and even reads nothing exciting. The constant danger has worn
out the last shred of his manhood and left him a pitiful wreck. Can
nothing be done for him?"
"Possibly. But has he consulted no physician?"
"None whatever; he has been afraid that he might learn the worst."
"Let us find him at once. Ah, here comes my wife to meet me! She
arrived by the other steamer."