Argosy All-Story Weekly, 4 February 1922 — page 169: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“DOUBLES AND QUITS. - hospital work and missions, you remember? —TI’ve been thinking about asking your ad- vice. I’ve been on the tramp since I left Quentin, picking up odd jobs here and there; but that unsettled sort of life is no earthly good to any man. I’m younger than I look, and I want to do something useful with my life. I don’t care whether there’s any money in it or not, so long as I can earn enough to house and clothe my- self. I learned a lot at Quentin, and I might be useful in one of the East End missions, particularly with the men. If they knew I’d been in prison, myself, all . the better. Sort of give them a homely feeling.” He broke off with a short, rueful laugh, gazed into space a moment and then began diligently to fill his pipe. Hugh Sanders nodded. . “It’s a good idea, and I can put you exactly in the right place. I’d like you to have a few months’ hospital work, first. But—forgive my mentioning it—a man needs to be quite free if he’s to give his best in that sort of work. That’s why most of our priests down there are celebates.” ““T’m absolutely free,” Dick said grimly. “IT haven’t a single earthly tie now, nor am I likely to acquire any.” The doctor’s lips pursed in a silent whis- tle. Here he was, as at Quentin, up against Dick Marshall’s icy reticence. The man would discuss any topic except his past. It - wasn’t quite fair. That poor, distressed lit- tle wife! Sanders had kept a sort of eye on her. He had been several times to see “The Rajah,” and fallen a little in love with “ Loraine Drew ” across the footlights. Once he had very nearly sent a card around to ask if she’d let him take her out to sup- per. But no, that would not do. Second thought prevailed, and he fought down the impulse to see her again, except from the stalls of the theater. She was the wife of a man he thoroughly respected in spite of the questionable surroundings in which they had met. She was a brave girl. Those gray eyes of hers were full of courage. The young doctor would have been more than human, had he not been filled with a vast curiosity. Yet there was that wall of reticence. How could it be scaled? Above ; \ all, a doctor, if he is to be successful, must possess the gift of tact. ever, had not come to him for physical nor even for mental healing. Marshall merely wanted a job, and remembered that Hugh Sanders had offered to help him get one. There it began, and there it ended. The doctor made a fresh start to reach the difficult topic. “T very much wanted to get into touch with you some time ago,” he said, when Henry had cleared the table and departed. “In fact, I rang up Quentin, but unfor- tunately for me you’d been discharged two days before. The Governor said you’d gone to your old home, which was Witch- am.’ Dick Marshall started, and his tired face was very pale. “I used to live at Witcham, but I have no home there now. My mother died last winter and—my home was broken up.” Almost a confidence at last! Dr. San- ders took heart of grace. “But you went back there?”’ What was the doctor driving at? Dick replied briefly to that question and then switched the subject. ‘“ Yes, I did. But I didn’t stay long. I started off almost im- mediately on the tramp. My longest job was in Reading. I rather liked it—load- ing crates of biscuit tins onto a motor trolley—” “* My dear chap, I wonder if you'll for- give me if I ask you something? never talked to me about yourself, and God knows I’ve no wish to meddle with your personal affairs—only I simply must speak.” Poor Sanders was desperate. “What is it you want to ask me?” There was a scowl in Dick’s eyes. he anticipate what was coming? “It’s only that I[—that I happen to know you're married. I met your wife quite accidentally. She thought you were Did ‘dead, and it was my privilege to assure her that the rumor was false. I’ve never.seen a woman so moved—so sublimely shaken in my life. I can’t help speaking to you about it, old chap. -— know she was in Witcham, and I thought—just possibly— you’d seen her.” The doctor faltered, hesi- tated and finally stopped speaking. 479 This man, how=-— : You’ve: EomIcbooks.com —