Chapter 1

I had just made my rounds of the wards for the last time, that June
evening, fifteen years ago, when Murchison, my chief, came to me with
the open letter in his hand.

"Here's the very chance to suit you, Haverill," he said. "Read that!
A chap named Lennox, in Pennsylvania, wants a substitute for three
months. Small country practice--no work of any account, I
imagine--and a good holiday thrown in. Just reached me tonight, by
chance."

I had finished my term as _interne_, and was leaving the hospital the
next day. The whole summer was before me, for after three years of
heavy work I owed myself one good vacation before settling to the
task of building up a private practice, and I was glad enough of the
chance to turn it to advantage. Every dollar I had saved I had put
aside for the future struggle, and Murchison knew it. How to take a
three months' vacation on next to nothing was no easy problem, and
only such an opportunity as this, for which I had been searching
vainly for weeks past, could solve it.

I glanced at the signature below the letter.

"George Lennox.... I used to know a George Lennox at college."

"Probably the same man. He asks me to recommend some one reliable.
Funny idea. He can't have much opinion of his country colleagues, or
he'd simply hand the patients over. There can't be so many of them,
in a place like that. Rather fussy, I gather! Well, it might suit
you. I thought I'd ask you before I spoke to anyone else."

It suited me so well, in prospect, that I sat down at Murchison's
desk and wrote off my application then and there. Lennox's answer
came promptly, dated from the small town in Pennsylvania where he had
been settled for the past five years. Beyond a few details about the
place, his letter told me very little. He was leaving for his
health, to take a three months' holiday abroad, and he wanted a
substitute as early as possible. The practice was that of the
average country doctor in a not over-populous neighbourhood. It was
a bracing district, not far from the mountains; there was good
fishing, and some shooting in the fall, and with the arrangements he
offered it fell in perfectly with my own plans. He was urgent that I
should take over the work as soon as I could, and after a brief
correspondence I settled up my affairs in the city--they were not
many--packed my few belongings, and went down.

It was a small and primitive station at which I was deposited, after
a somewhat uninteresting train journey. The place struck me, even in
those days, as a survival of an earlier age; one of those little
backwaters left behind in the flow of progress. As I stood looking
about me at the stretch of dusty road, the hotel, and the few
clustered shops that marked the beginning of the village street, the
station-master came up.

"You're for Doctor Lennox, ain't you?" he began. "His buggy's there
waitin'. I reckon Pete's over at the saloon, puttin' in time! I'll
step over an' tell him."

I put my valise in the solitary vehicle he indicated, with a smart
roan mare in the shafts, and a moment later "Pete" appeared, drawing
a furtive black hand over his mouth. I addressed him curtly; if he
was to be my factotum during the next three months there would have
to be less of these rather free-and-easy ways. He eyed me civilly,
with some curiosity, muttering a darkie's invariable ready excuses;
climbed to the buggy seat, tilting his straw hat over his eyes, and
we set off.

The village was not large. It seemed that Lennox's place was some
mile and a half out, and our road led for the most part through
woods. It was pretty country. The trees were tall and
close-growing, hickory and oak, with young saplings pushing a sturdy
growth between. There were boulders everywhere, the sullen granite
that in this district crops out through the earth's scant surface,
making the small farmer's life a perpetual harvest of stone picking.
To me, fresh from the city pavements, it was picturesque enough.
Once a hare loped across our path, and I saw Pete shift the reins to
scrabble in his coat pocket. He cast a half-sheepish glance at me as
he did so.

"Have you lost something?" I asked.

"No, sah! I jest recollected suthin'. Raikon dat hyar remin' me!"

"Meeting a rabbit is supposed to be lucky, isn't it?" I remarked,
lighting a cigarette. "It seems to me I've heard so."

He looked at me suspiciously, and I knew that I had divined correctly
the reason of that sudden dive. "Dat so, sah?" he said guilelessly.
"I 'spect all dem things jes' depend!"

A few yards further the road took a bend.

Along the narrow footpath at the side a girl was walking. She was
dressed in a short golf-skirt and cotton blouse, with a man's Panama
on her head, and from her look I took her for a chance summer visitor
rather than a resident. I noticed her only casually, but as the
buggy drew abreast she lifted her head, and instantly I felt Pete
swerve against me on the seat. His clumsy action made the horse
start. The girl laughed, a little mocking ripple--I heard her with a
glow of annoyance--and we shot off at increased pace up the road.

I turned to the man angrily; he had drunk even more than I supposed.
His face was actually pale, as pale as a darkie's can be. His hand
was in his pocket again, and he turned my blame promptly on the horse.

"Yoh clumsy trash, ain' yoh look whar yoh goin' a-skeerin' folks that
way! I'se larn yoh suthin' some day!"

"What's the matter with you?" I said. "Can't you drive steadily?"

He fell to muttering, apologetic, conciliatory.

"'Deed, sah, dat hoss ain' got no sainse! I done druv dat hoss two
years, an' I _know_ her, sah! Dere ain' no hoss round got less
sainse. Sho as we met dat hyar I knew there was suthin' boun' ter
happen! I ain' got no use fur meetin' hyars in de mawnin'--no, sah!
I ain' doin' no business wiv 'em!"

We reached Lennox's house without further incident. It was a grey
stone house, standing back in a pleasant garden, with barn and small
orchard adjoining. Lennox was out on the porch to welcome me. Pete
led the mare swiftly round to the side and began to unharness; I
think he was anxious to escape any possible comment I might make to
the doctor on his condition.

"Well, so you've got here!" Lennox said as we shook hands. "I'm very
glad. Did you have a tiresome journey? Come inside. I'm very glad
to see you!"

His tone was cordiality itself. To my ears it had even a note of
relief. It struck me instantly, as I looked at him, that he had been
through some recent stress of worry, if not ill-health. He had aged
considerably. He was older than I, and his hair already a little
grey at the temples. His face was lined and troubled, and he had an
uneasy way with his hands I did not like. I had known him always as
a rather steady-going, plodding sort of fellow, not given to excess
of nervous energy in any form, and his present appearance gave me
something of a shock.

He led the way into the house. Dinner was already served. Lennox
followed the country custom in dining early. I don't know how the
staid elderly woman, who was both cook and housekeeper, and who was
to fulfil the same offices for me, would take to such an innovation
as dinner at seven. I ate well after my journey, Lennox but
sparingly. He offered me a high ball with the meal, but drank only
water himself.

"I've got into country ways," he said. "I'm afraid you'll find the
place a bit dull, Haverill, but you'll manage all right. You can get
most things you want, down here; the tradespeople aren't bad."

Over our meal we talked chiefly of the University days when we had
been more or less friends, though Lennox was already a senior when I
entered, of the men we had mutually known and of their careers, and
lightly only, of our own. Lennox was not over-talkative, but he
seemed more at ease as the day wore on. I could see he was glad to
have me definitely there, was anxious to start, but I was not quite
prepared for his answer when I asked him what day he thought of
leaving.

"Oh, tomorrow! I shall get the twelve-thirty to the city.
Everything is ready."

I suppose I looked rather blank, for I had counted on a couple of
days at least in his company before I was left alone.

"You'll find everything easy to hand. I'll go over things with you
this evening. It isn't a specially busy place here, you know!"

"And you'll be away three months?" I asked.

"More or less.... My dear fellow, I want a change! I want it
frightfully!" I agreed with him. His eyes were wandering round the
room as he spoke. "The work's nothing here--worse luck! You'll have
practically a holiday. But I'm quite run down. There've been some
... some family worries. What's the matter, Pete?"

The coloured man had come into the room.

"De mare's done got anudder shoe loose. I 'specs I'll hev to take
her into town."

"Again? You should have had it seen to this morning early." He
spoke irritably. "Take her in, and don't be late back!"

"Yessah!"

Pete went out lingeringly, and I more than suspected from his entry
that he had been listening, or attempting to listen, to our talk.

"That man," I said when he had gone. "Do you find him all right?"

"Pete?" Lennox lit a cigar. "He's invaluable! You'll find him a
splendid servant. He's been with me three years, and I wouldn't part
with him for a good deal. He has his faults, as all darkies have,
but he's thoroughly trustworthy!"

I thought of the furtive groping in his pocket when we passed the
hare.

"A bit superstitious, eh?"

"What do you mean," Lennox fairly wheeled on me. "Has he been
talking?"

"I imagine he carries an assortment of amulets about with him."

"Oh, that!" He looked vaguely relieved. "All of 'em do. He's a
walking catalogue of superstitions. It's the only thing we have rows
about. I detest all that nonsense!"

"I'll have a talk with him, some day," I said.

"I wouldn't advise you to. In fact, I wouldn't advise you to
encourage him on the subject in any way. I think it's better to
leave those things alone. Darkies are darkies, and no power on earth
would persuade Pete against his rabbit's foot. No! Steer clear of
that, my dear fellow, and you'll find him all right."

We spent the afternoon in the surgery. Lennox showed me a detailed
account of his cases--they were very few--in a notebook. He had
evidently been at pains that I should find no trouble in taking over
the work.

"I've left some things in rather a mess," he said. "I told you I'd
been upset lately ... but I think you'll find it all right."

Supper was at six. Pete, true to his word, brought the mare back
well before dusk. I could hear him whistling in the coach-house as
he hung the harness away.

"I suppose you'd find use for a motor-cycle here?" I asked Lennox as
we sat in the dining-room after supper. It was barely dark outside,
but the housekeeper had already drawn the curtains and lighted the
lamp. I would have infinitely preferred my pipe on the porch, but if
Lennox chose to stew indoors this weather it was no business of mine,
and it would only be forced on me for one evening.

"I used to have one," he said, "but I gave it up. The roads aren't
very good here, and I found a horse better. Did you bring one?"

"It's coming on tomorrow."

"Oh? Well, you'll suit yourself. The roads aren't very good at
night, but the mare is used to them. Not that I have many night
calls."

It was a few minutes after that he looked at me suddenly as we sat
opposite one another across the unlighted hearth.

"I suppose you're fit--in good health and all that. I didn't ask."

"Perfectly."

"That's good. Never had any nerve trouble, for instance?"

"Not an atom!"

"I'm glad. It's as well to be sure, you know." He laughed, rather
apologetically. "I was quite lucky to get you."

It seemed that Lennox kept early hours. It was barely half-past ten
when he proposed turning in. The heavy country air had made me
sleepy, and I was ready enough to follow his lead.

Lennox's room was directly over the surgery, with which it
communicated by a little staircase, convenient for night calls. Both
the surgery and the room above it had been built as a later addition
to the house. The bedroom would be mine later; for the present I was
put into a small extra bedroom across the landing from his own.

I slept heavily, but a little after midnight, as I judged, I was
roused by hearing movements below stairs. People were talking; I
fancied I heard a woman's voice, low and querulous. Evidently it was
not a call too urgent to wait for daylight, for a few moments later I
heard the floor of Lennox's room creak as he returned to bed. I fell
asleep again easily, and when I woke the second time it was broad
daylight.

I asked Lennox at breakfast if there was any fresh call for the day.
He looked at me narrowly.

"Only the scarlatina case in the village and the woman at the Bend,"
he said, referring to the two cases he had mentioned the day before.
"The woman is doing all right, but you might look in during the
afternoon. The buggy will be back by one o'clock."

I smoked a pipe out in the orchard while he finished his packing. No
one came up the road the whole morning except the baker and a
travelling tinsmith; Lennox was right when he said I could take my
work easily. The house stood in a pretty enough position. There
were woods behind and about, skirting the orchard, and in front, on
the other side of the road, a strip of pasture sloped to a little
brook. The nearest dwelling was some two hundred yards away, down
the road to the village. It belonged to a small farmer, I learned, a
Pennsylvania Dutchman, as were most of the people about.

At twelve the mare was hitched and waiting, and Lennox came to bid me
good-bye, after a few final instructions. We shook hands, and as he
climbed into the buggy and took up the reins I don't think I ever saw
a man's face express more utter and absolute relief.