A GRAVE CONSULTATION.
Arriving at Mr. Huntress’ office in Dey street, Gladys alighted, bidding
John detain the boy in the carriage until she could bring her father.
She ran lightly up the stairs, and found that gentleman just on the
point of leaving to return home, but evidently very much pleased to have
his daughter come for him.
She related what had occurred on her way over to the city, and he
listened attentively to her story; but his face grew grave as she
proceeded, for he was so fond and careful of her, that he could not
endure the thought of her running into any danger.
“I fear you have been unwise, my darling, in taking this boy into the
carriage with you,” he said, drawing her fondly toward him, and bending
down to kiss the bright, eager face upturned to him. “He may have come
from some fever-infested locality; you should have given him into the
care of a policeman.”
“But, papa, there was no policeman near at the time, and the poor boy
was so frightened and distressed I hadn’t the heart to make him get out
of the carriage, at least until we could get beyond the reach of those
rude boys. I supposed, of course, he would tell us where he lived, so
that we could take him home, but we could not understand a word that he
said.”
“Perhaps he is some foreigner,” suggested Mr. Huntress.
“No, I think not, for he seemed to know what we said to him. He isn’t
like those other boys—he looks as if he must belong to very nice,
respectable people. His clothes are very plain, but as clean as can
be—even his hands and nails are as white and clean as mine, which is not
usual in a boy, you know. Come and see him, papa. I know you will pity
him,” pleaded Gladys, with a very sweet and sympathetic face.
She slipped her hand within her father’s arm and drew him with gentle
force out of his office and down the stairs to the carriage, where John
sat, looking a trifle anxious and as if he feared a reproof for allowing
a strange child in his master’s elegant equipage with his idolized
daughter.
Mr. Huntress was struck with the refined, even aristocratic appearance
of the boy the moment his eyes fell upon him.
He instantly recognized the wonderful beauty of his face, remarked the
shape and color of his eyes, which, had they been lighted by the fire of
intelligence, would have been his chief charm. His frame was slight, but
he was finely formed, with shapely hands and feet. His head was rather
massive for his body and of that square structure, with a broad, full
brow and an unusual height above the ears, which generally proclaims a
large brain and rare intellectual capacity, and yet he was unmistakably
an idiot! One look into those blank, expressionless eyes but too plainly
told that.
Mr. Huntress entered the carriage, after assisting Gladys to her seat,
and spoke kindly and cheerfully to the boy.
He made no answer, but fixed his great eyes earnestly upon the
gentleman’s face while he shrank close to Gladys, as if he instinctively
realized that she was his stanch friend, and would protect him against
all evil.
“I do not wonder that you were interested in him, Gladys,” said Mr.
Huntress, regarding the stranger gravely, “he is peculiarly winning in
appearance, though evidently very simple in mind.”
“Do you suppose he was always so, papa?” Gladys asked.
“It does not seem possible, for, aside from that vacant look in his
eyes, his face has a wonderfully intelligent expression, especially when
it is in repose. Can’t you make him say anything?”
“No, sir; he tries to talk, but I cannot understand what he means.”
“Ask him a question, Gladys,” said her father.
“Boy, you have lost your hat—would you like a new one?” the young girl
questioned.
“M’ha! m’ha!” he instantly answered, putting his hand to his head, thus
showing as before that he had comprehended something of what was said to
him.
Mr. Huntress’ face lighted.
“Try something else,” he commanded.
“Where do you live, boy?” Gladys inquired.
This query, like the previous one, only elicited a perfect storm of
unintelligible sounds.
“Do you wish to go home to your friends?” Gladys continued, making
another effort.
But the only response was a short, sharp ejaculation of pain, while the
lad seized her hand and laid his cheek affectionately against it,
looking appealingly into her face, as if thus to signify that he did not
wish to leave her.
“I cannot understand him at all, papa, only it seems as if he wishes to
stay with me,” said Gladys, with a sigh.
Mr. Huntress thought a moment, then he turned to the coachman and said:
“Drive home, John.”
“Oh, papa, are you going to take him home with us?” cried Gladys,
eagerly.
“Yes; for to-night. I find myself strangely interested in him, and I
have not the heart to turn him adrift upon the street. He evidently
belongs to a good family, and has probably strayed from home and got
lost. We will care for him until we can learn who his friends are, and
can return him to them,” Mr. Huntress replied, and they then proceeded
directly home with their strange _protege_, where Mrs. Huntress received
them with considerable surprise, although her sympathies were also soon
enlisted in behalf of their charge, and she bestowed the kindest of care
and attention upon the unfortunate waif so singularly thrown into her
family.
Mr. Huntress caused an advertisement to be inserted in the papers the
next morning, inquiring for the friends of the wanderer.
But a week passed and he received not one word in reply, and thus his
identity remained a profound mystery.
Meantime, the object of these inquiries was so docile and tractable, so
affectionate in his manner toward every member of the household; he was
so trustful, appearing to recognize instinctively that they were kind
friends; he was so exceptionally nice about his person and habits, and
so gentle in his manner, that they all became greatly attached to him,
and they felt more and more convinced that he belonged to some family of
good blood and high position, in spite of the very common clothing which
he wore, and his imbecile condition.
There was nothing about him to give the least clew to his identity.
Every article he had on was thoroughly examined to try to find some
name; every pocket was searched with the same purpose, and at last Mr.
Huntress began to believe that he must have been brought from a distance
to New York by some person or persons, and there willfully deserted for
some secret reason, with the hope, perhaps, that the authorities would
care for him and have him sent to some institution for weak-minded
people.
This view of the affair made him very indignant toward the supposed
perpetrators of the deed, and tenfold more tender toward the unfortunate
victim of such an inhuman transaction, and one day, upon returning from
his business in New York, he was accompanied by one of the most skillful
physicians in the city.
To him the pitiable but interesting innocent was submitted for
examination.
The noted M. D. at once became absorbed in and enthusiastic over the
peculiar case.
“He would be a remarkable boy but for the torpidity of his intellect,”
he asserted. “He was not born so. His present condition was caused
either by some acute disease of the brain, or by some injury to it—the
latter, most probably.”
“Possibly a great wrong has been perpetrated, and he has been deserted
in this mysterious way to conceal the deed,” suggested Mr. Huntress,
gravely.
“I should not be at all surprised,” returned the physician. “He may be
the heir to some large property, and jealousy has brought him to this
pass. Everything about him, save his idiocy, betrays that he came of a
refined parentage. His physical condition is sound, although he is not
fully developed as he should be, but that is owing undoubtedly, to his
mental incapacity. He is evidently about fifteen years of age.”
All this was the result of but a superficial examination. A more
critical one confirmed one of the doctor’s theories: there proved to be
a depression of the skull which must have been caused by some accident
to or violent blow upon the head.
“It was done a number of years ago,” the learned man affirmed, “and that
produced a paralysis of the brain and also of the nerves that control
his organs of speech.”
“Is there any help for him—can he be restored?” Mr. Huntress inquired,
eagerly.
“Possibly, by an operation; but it would be attended with considerable
risk.”
“Would the risk be so great, that were the boy your own son, you would
hesitate to attempt it?”
“No; I should have it done at once. Still, the trouble is of such long
standing that I could not answer for the success of the operation in
restoring the boy to his normal condition, even should he survive the
shock to his system; and yet——”
“Well?” almost impatiently questioned Mr. Huntress. He was becoming
greatly excited over the matter.
Somehow a conviction had taken possession of his heart that such an
operation would result favorably, and he longed to have his hopes
confirmed.
“It would be a great triumph of science if the trial could be made, and
he should have his reasoning powers restored,” returned the physician,
gravely.
“Would he be able to talk? Would his power of speech be regained?”
“Yes, I believe so. I suspect that a portion of the skull, which was
broken at the time of his injury, is pressing upon his brain, causing
not only loss of memory, but also a partial paralysis of the hypoglossal
nerve. If this pressure can be relieved, and the piece of skull lifted
to its place, or removed altogether, and the aperture trepanned, I see
no reason why he should not recover the full use of all his faculties,”
the doctor explained.
“I wish it might be done. Doctor, I wonder if it would be right for me
to assume the responsibility of ordering this operation to be
performed,” said Mr. Huntress, reflectively.
“It would be a great blessing to the boy.”
“Yes; provided all went well.”
“And an otherwise inexplicable mystery might thus be solved; he would
doubtless be able to tell who he is, and thus you could restore him to
his friends.”
“Dr. Scherz, will you share the responsibility—simply that—of this
matter with me?” Mr. Huntress gravely asked, after thinking deeply for
several moments.
“I feel rather delicate about giving you an affirmative answer to that
question,” the physician replied, “if I am expected to have charge of
the case. I might be severely criticised and accused of a desire to
experiment for the benefit of my profession, if there should be a fatal
result.”
“Yes, perhaps; but, on the other hand, you would acquire fame if the boy
was restored.”
“Undoubtedly.” And the eminent physician’s eyes glowed with eagerness.
“Well, the matter stands like this,” said Mr. Huntress, after another
thoughtful pause. “I have done my best to find the lad’s friends, but
there is evidently no one, at least in Brooklyn or New York who will
claim him. I am unaccountably interested in him. I will not send him to
an insane asylum. I cannot cast him forth again upon the street to
wander about at the mercy of the rabble. I have resolved to care for him
as I would wish a son of mine cared for under similar circumstances, and
yet his presence, in this imbecile state, is a constant pain to me. What
shall I do?”
“If you intend to give him a father’s care, I see no reason why you
should not exercise a parent’s judgment and authority in the matter of
his possible restoration,” Dr. Scherz responded, thoughtfully.
“Then will you take charge of the case and treat it as your judgment and
skill dictate? The expense and risk shall all be mine, yours the reward
and fame if a cure is effected.”
Dr. Scherz did not reply to this request for several minutes. He
appeared to be considering and reviewing the matter in all its points,
and evidently regarded the undertaking as one of grave responsibility
and importance.
At length he looked up, and Mr. Huntress was more encouraged by the
expression on his pale, thoughtful face, than he had yet been over
anything that he had said about the case. He felt sure that the man
would act conscientiously, and exert himself to the extent of his skill.
“I think I will attempt it,” he said, slowly. “But before I do, I would
like to consult with a friend in the profession, and get his opinion
upon the undertaking. I will see you again in a few days; meantime, do
your best to build up the boy’s strength with a nourishing diet.”
With this, the two men separated.