CHAPTER V.A GRAVE CONSULTATION.

CHAPTER V.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, sothat 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 vacantlook 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 strangeprotege, 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 owingundoubtedly, 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 besolved; 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 willsee 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.

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