CHAPTER III.DR. SCHNEEBERGER.
Y
es; the plunge was taken, the die was cast. Torrington Torwood had taken upon himself the personification of Philip Debenham, and by the time that he had posted with his invalid friend from the little village of Hornberg to the town of Freyburg, he had quite accustomed himself to his altered circumstances.
On the outskirts of Freyburg lived a German physician, who had devoted much time to the study of the human brain, and who had attained to a considerable reputation in the eyes of his contemporaries. Tor’s German education had made him conversant with the names of most of the eminent men of the day, and very glad had he been to hear that Dr. Schneeberger was now living near Freyburg in comparativeretirement, whilst he prosecuted his studies and gave up the bulk of his time to the production of a scientific work, which was to make his name and his fame all over Europe.
Tor had attended some of the doctor’s lectures in past years, and knew him for as simple-minded and kind-hearted a little oddity as ever trod shoe-leather; and therefore, without any misgiving or hesitation, he drove the unconscious Phil straight to the doctor’s own modest abode.
Dr. Schneeberger was at home, and Tor was admitted to his study, where the little spectacled, sharp-faced man was seated at his microscope, amid heaps of manuscripts and piles of books.
The handsome young Englishman, in fluent German, made his apologies for his intrusion, which were readily accepted, after which Tor opened his case.
He and his friend Mr. Torwood were travelling companions, and had been so for many years; but unfortunately his friend had been struck down by a severe sunstroke some days ago, and had remained unconscious ever since. Important business now summoned him, the speaker, to England—business which admittedof no delay; and as he had heard that Dr. Schneeberger occasionally admitted under his roof patients who were suffering from injury to the brain, he had taken the liberty of bringing Mr. Torwood to him, to request him, as a great favour, to receive him as a patient, and allow him to remain there until he had recovered, and could follow his friend to England. Dr. Schneeberger could name his own terms; whatever sum he fixed upon should be paid.
The doctor rubbed his hands together, scratched his head, and in affable tones asked a few questions about Herr Torwood’s constitution and the occasion of the stroke. He seemed interested in what he heard, and when he understood that the patient was in a carriage at his own door, he jumped up and trotted off to have a look at him.
Tor’s cause was won. Phil’s case interested the little doctor. The patient was carried up to a clean, bare, thoroughly German bedroom, and Dr. Schneeberger made a most careful examination of his condition.
Tor, who had some business to get through before starting for England, took up his quarters at the hotel, and sent off a goodmany telegraphic messages; and in a few hours’ time repaired to the doctor’s house to hear his verdict as to Phil’s condition.
‘I will undertake the case of your friend, mein Herr, for it interests me; but I am sure there is more injury than is to be accounted for by the sunstroke. I suspect a slight effusion on the brain, from the rupture of some tiny vessel: there are symptoms of compression, which are not to be explained by a simple sunstroke.’
Tor looked disturbed.
‘You do not think him seriously ill, I hope?’
‘Everything, my dear young friend, that affects the human brain is serious. The brain is a most wonderful and complicated structure. I could demonstrate to you, by the aid of my microscope, how——’
‘Excuse me, doctor, but you have made me anxious. You do not mean to say that you consider my friend’s life in danger?’
Such a complication as Phil’s death, before his assumption of his own name and position, could not be contemplated without a shudder.
The doctor raised his hands with a gesture of horror.
‘Oh no, no, no—nein, nein—not at all, my dear sir—not at all; pray do not alarm yourself needlessly. Herr Torwood’s life is in no danger at all, so far as my experience goes—none whatever; but the case is, nevertheless, a serious one—all cases of compression are serious. He may be a long while getting over it—he may remain many weeks in his present state. You called him “unconscious;” but that is hardly the correct word to use. He is in a torpid helpless state, and to you he seems insensible; but medically speaking, it is not real coma. Still, he is absolutely incapable of any thought or volition, and his mind is all astray; and this condition of torpor may last some while. I heard of a case somewhat similar, where the balance of the faculties was not restored for above a year.’
Tor listened aghast. Dr. Schneeberger’s innocent zeal filled him with dismay, akin to irritation.
‘You do not mean that you think my friend will be a year in recovering?’ he asked sharply.
‘My dear sir, no, a thousand times no; suchcases aremostrare; it may never be my good fortune to meet with one like it. I merely mentioned the matter to show you how impossible it was to say how long a time will elapse before a patient will recover his full consciousness. Your friend will, in all probability, make far more rapid progress. Still, if there is, as I suspect, some slight effusion of blood upon the brain, it may be some while before the system will re-absorb it.’
‘Can nothing be done?’ questioned Tor impatiently. ‘Would any operation hasten his recovery? As it happens just now, it is of great importance that he should be able to return soon to England; affairs there require his presence. Can you do nothing of that sort, doctor?’
Dr. Schneeberger shook his head, and his odd, expressive face put on a shrewd look of gravity.
‘Mein Herr, I would not attempt such a thing, save as a last resort. If Nature can do her work alone, be sure she will do it best herself, and in her own way, and at her own time. Do you know the secret of my success in my profession? Simply this, that I studyNature closely, and let her alone whenever it is possible. If she cannot work unassisted, I give her what assistance lies in my power; but I never interfere with her unless I am obliged. Nature will cure your friend in due course if she has her way. My part is to stand by and see fair play, that is all.’
Tor pulled at his moustache, and considered.
‘Well, doctor,’ he said at length, ‘you know your own business best, of course, and I must leave the matter in your hands. You lay me under a great obligation by undertaking the case. Will you grant me one favour more? The moment you see any sign of returning consciousness will you telegraph to me? I am most anxious to be with my friend when he comes to himself. I will travel night and day to secure that object.’
The little doctor rubbed his hands together—his favourite gesture when in any doubt—and smiled benignantly upon his young English friend.
‘Mein Herr, I will do all I can to facilitate your wishes; but you know it is quite possible your friend may recover his facultiesquite suddenly—in an hour—in a moment of time. No one can say how it will be in such cases; whether recovery will come by slow degrees or like a lightning-flash. If possible, I will give you due warning; in any case, you will be immediately summoned; but that you can be with him at the moment of his recovery no one can promise.’
‘Oh, he may come to himself any minute, may he?’ mused Tor half aloud; and a momentary expression of perplexity crossed his face.
It cleared away quickly, however, and the young man turned to the doctor with a frank smile.
‘In that case, doctor, I will mention to you rather a curious thing that happened a few months back, when my friend was seized with cramp whilst bathing, and became unconscious before I could get him to shore. When he came to himself he was completely confused for several hours as to his own identity and mine. He could not rid himself of the notion that he was Philip Debenham—myself, that is; whilst I was, he declared, Torrington Torwood, which is, as you know, his own name. I donot know, of course, whether he would do the same thing again after a prolonged period of unconsciousness; but in case he should wake up under the strange conviction that he is Philip Debenham, and inquire anxiously for his friend Torwood, you will know better what to make of it.’
‘Quite so, quite so; a most unusual phase; a most interesting circumstance. Mr. Debenham, your friend shall receive every care I can bestow upon him. His brain interests me much. Confusion of identity! A most remarkable thing!’
The simple-minded little doctor gave all credence to what Tor told him. Suspicion was no part of his nature. He looked at everything from a psychological and professional point of view, and was delighted to get hold of any patient whose symptoms might give him a clearer insight into his favourite subject.
Dr. Schneeberger had a sister Gretchen, as kind-hearted and simple-minded as himself, and given over, in true German fashion, to household cares and domestic management. She was highly prepossessed in favour of thedistinguished-looking young Englishman and his helpless friend, and made many protestations as to the care the latter should receive whilst under their roof.
Tor’s mind was relieved of all fear on Phil’s account, feeling confident that he would be well looked after, and only dismayed by the length of time which might possibly ensue before he should recover sufficiently to assume his own name and position, and free Tor from therôlehe had assumed.
Tor dined with the doctor and his sister, and was put through quite a catechism by the innocently-inquisitive Gretchen, as to his history and antecedents, and his prospective visit to England. It seemed ungracious to be too reserved towards those who had shown him kindness and consideration; so Tor told the little German Hausfrau how he had come into a property in the west of England, and had to go over to take possession, and to see his relatives, from whom he had long been absent. He did not say more than was needful, feeling strange in his adopted character, and rather fearful of making a slip; but one thing led to another, one question to manymore, and before they rose from table Tor felt that he was indeed Philip Debenham, and that no drawing back was possible now.
‘I did not mean to say so much,’ he mused, as he went slowly upstairs to Phil’s room; ‘but, after all, what does it matter? It is good practice. A slip here would matter little; over there it might be fatal. Confound that fellow! Why can’t he wake up and act for himself? Suppose he lies like that for months? a devil of a mess I may have got myself into by that time! Was I a great fool ever to make this attempt? If that Belassis wasn’t such an old scoundrel, and didn’t lead that poor girl such a life, I don’t suppose I should ever have thought of such a thing. Well, I’m in for it now; I can’t draw back; I must go through with it till Phil comes to himself, and then I can vanish like Mephistopheles, and never appear again. I think I can manage to annoy Uncle Belassis more than a little before I abdicate in favour of Phil. Uncle Belassis, I have some very strong suspicions as to your honesty and integrity. I think you and I will enjoy some private conversationstogether which poor old easy-going Phil might have spared you.’
By which speech it may be seen that Tor looked forward with mixed feelings to hisdébutin England as Philip Debenham, but that, on the whole, the careless daring of his nature inclined him to relish the situation more than he feared it.
Naturally, a few days’ consideration had made him think more seriously of his scheme than he had done at first, and the fear that Phil might be long in coming to his relief added not a little to his perplexities. However, as he said to himself, it was too late now to draw back, and all that remained to be done was to take every care that the truth should not leak out before the appointed time.
His first idea had been to leave amongst Phil’s possessions a sealed paper, informing him briefly of his accession to wealth, and what step he (Tor) had taken to defeat Uncle Belassis, and release Maud and the aunt from his guardianship. On second thoughts, however, he decided to leave behind no such dangerous document, which, were a suspicion once aroused, and an inquiry instituted, woulddamn him, and, for aught he knew, clap him into prison at once.
No, he would leave no evidence of any kind behind him. He and Phil had not been close friends for nearly eighteen years for nothing. No misunderstanding could arise in Phil’s mind concerning Tor’s actions; and besides that, the moment he showed any sign of consciousness Tor was to be summoned. Even should Phil awake suddenly, he must wait where he was until his friend came to him, and then all would be made clear, and the two could return together to install Phil in his own rightful place.
That point settled, there only remained to make an interchange of such little possessions as bore upon them the names of their respective owners. Fortunately none of their clothes were marked, for Tor’s greater height would have rendered an exchange of garments impossible; but a few little trifles, as knives, pocket-books and cigar-cases, had initials traced upon them, and these were all carefully sorted out and allotted to their wrong-owners.
Phil’s watch and chain and a signet-ringupon his finger had been already appropriated, for both had belonged to Mr. Debenham, and would be strong evidence as to identity.
‘I don’t suppose it will occur to anyone to dispute that, however,’ said Tor to himself, ‘for I don’t know how a man sets to work in a general way to prove that he’s himself. Anyway, I could quite as easily prove myself Philip Debenham as Torrington Torwood, if it comes to that, and I suppose that is all that is necessary.’
That same evening Tor said farewell to the kind little doctor and his sister, and to the unconscious Phil, and started on his journey to England.
He had left with Dr. Schneeberger the money that had been sent to Phil by the lawyer; but he was put out and vexed to find, when he had got twelve hours on his way to England, that he had carelessly left behind amongst Phil’s things the £500 he had drawn out of his own bank, which was nearly all in English notes. He remembered how the blunder had been made; it was during the exchange of personal effects. He had exchanged pocket-books and had omitted to change thecontents, and the £500 was left in the possession of his friend.
It was too late to recover the money now, he could not go back for it; and he was not afraid that anyone in that simple, primitive household would even discover its existence, much less appropriate it. In his easy-going way he decided to let it remain there, unknown to anyone, until he visited Phil, and then he could decide what was to be done.
‘After all, it does not much matter,’ he said to himself; ‘that £500 must be Phil’s, and I will draw out £500 of his in its place. I meant only to use his money for the house and estate; but after all, when I first arrive it would seem odd not to want any cash for personal expenses. Yes; I must be careful not to do anything to excite suspicion. Nobody will have any reason to be suspicious, that I can see; still Uncle Belassis would be an ugly customer to deal with, I doubt not, if he did get any idea of the sort into his head, and he will naturally pry into everything, until I have succeeded in kicking him out. I shall do that as speedily as possible,but undue rashness and heat may defeat their own ends. I must be circumspect.’
So Tor smoked and meditated and slept at intervals, during his hasty night and day journey, and became more and more at home with his new name and dignity.
On board the boat that bore him across the Channel, the idea of the meeting with his kindred was the uppermost in his mind.
‘I suppose I must kiss Maud—a man is always expected to kiss his sisters, of course. Well, she won’t be shy, so I suppose I need not be either; and at my time of life it would be a needless fabrication to pretend I had never kissed a pretty girl before—nobody would believe it. It may be a little awkward for us both when the true hero appears, but that cannot be helped, and I shall so soon vanish into obscurity that matters cannot become trying.
‘I fancy in the capacity of nephew I must embrace Aunt Olive, too. What a capital thing it is the old lady and Maud being such cronies! Maud could never have come to Ladywell without the aunt, and I should have been sadly put about for an excuse for keepingher away; but with the two there appearances will be saved, Mrs. Grundy silenced (when the true heir turns up), and I can come and go as I please.
‘I hope I shall be equal to the occasion if unknown relations or ancient friends turn up; but I think I know as much about everybody there as Phil does, except for the blind Mr. Meredith whom I do not think he ever mentioned to me. There is Matilda with the singed front locks, and Bertha with the false ones; and the son Lewis who is sure to be a cad, and whose marriage with Maud I am to stop, which I am convinced I shall docon amore. Yes, I feel equal to the ordeal; my spirits rise to the occasion. I am quite anticipating the happy meeting between my long-lost family and myself!’