章节正文
and escape, leaving my books to pay as they
might my arrears of rent. Looking out of
the window, however, in the morning, I saw
Stagers prowling about the opposite pavement;
and as the only exit except the street
door was an alleyway which opened along-
side of the front of the house, I gave myself
up for lost. About ten o'clock I took my case
of instruments and started for File's house,
followed, as I too well understood, by Stagers.
I knew the house, which was in a small up-
town street, by its closed windows and the
craped bell, which I shuddered as I touched.
However, it was too late to draw back, and I
therefore inquired for Mrs. File. A haggard-
looking young woman came down, and led
me into a small parlor, for whose darkened
light I was thankful enough.
``Did you write this note?''
``I did,'' said the woman, ``if you're the
coroner. Joe File--he's my husband--he's
gone out to see about the funeral. I wish it
was his, I do.''
``What do you suspect?'' said I.
``I'll tell you,'' she returned in a whisper.
``I think he was made away with. I think
there was foul play. I think he was poisoned.
That's what I think.''
``I hope you may be mistaken,'' said I.
``Suppose you let me see the body.''
``You shall see it,'' she replied; and following
her, I went up-stairs to a front chamber,
where I found the corpse.
``Get it over soon,'' said the woman, with
strange firmness. ``If there ain't no murder
been done I shall have to run for it; if there
was''--and her face set hard--``I guess I'll
stay.'' With this she closed the door and
left me with the dead.
If I had known what was before me I
never could have gone into the thing at all.
It looked a little better when I had opened
a window and let in plenty of light; for
although I was, on the whole, far less afraid
of dead than living men, I had an absurd
feeling that I was doing this dead man a
distinct wrong--as if it mattered to the
dead, after all! When the affair was over,
I thought more of the possible consequences
than of its relation to the dead man himself;
but do as I would at the time, I was in a
ridiculous funk, and especially when going
through the forms of a post-mortem examination.
I am free to confess now that I was
careful not to uncover the man's face, and that
when it was over I backed to the door and
hastily escaped from the room. On the stairs
opposite to me Mrs. File was seated, with her
bonnet on and a bundle in her hand.
``Well,'' said she, rising as she spoke, and
with a certain eagerness in her tone, ``what
killed him? Was it poison?''
``Poison, my good woman!'' said I. ``When
a man has typhoid fever he don't need poison
to kill him. He had a relapse, that's all.''
``And do you mean to say he wasn't
poisoned,'' said she, with more than a trace of
disappointment in her voice--``not poisoned
at all?''
``No more than you are,'' said I. ``If I had
found any signs of foul play I should have
had a regular inquest. As it is, the less said
about it the better. The fact is, it would
have been much wiser to have kept quiet at
the beginning. I can't understand why you
should have troubled me about it at all. The
man had a perforation. It is common enough
in typhoid.''
``That's what the doctor said--I didn't
believe him. I guess now the sooner I leave
the better for me.''
``As to that,'' I returned, ``it is none of my
business; but you may rest certain about the
cause of your brother's death.''
My fears were somewhat quieted that
evening when Stagers and the wolf appeared
with the remainder of the money, and I
learned that Mrs. File had fled from her
home and, as File thought likely, from the
city also. A few months later File himself
disappeared, and Stagers found his way for
the third time into the penitentiary. Then I
felt at ease. I now see, for my own part,
that I was guilty of more than one mistake,
and that I displayed throughout a want of
intelligence. I ought to have asked more,
and also might have got a good fee from
Mrs. File on account of my services as
coroner. It served me, however, as a good
lesson; but it was several months before I
felt quite comfortable.
Meanwhile money became scarce once more,
and I was driven to my wit's end to devise
how I should continue to live as I had done.
I tried, among other plans, that of keeping
certain pills and other medicines, which I
sold to my patients; but on the whole I found
it better to send all my prescriptions to one
druggist, who charged the patient ten or
twenty cents over the correct price, and
handed this amount to me.
In some cases I am told the percentage is
supposed to be a donation on the part of the
apothecary; but I rather fancy the patient
pays for it in the end. It is one of the absurd
vagaries of the profession to discountenance
the practice I have described, but I
wish, for my part, I had never done anything
more foolish or more dangerous. Of course
it inclines a doctor to change his medicines a
good deal, and to order them in large quantities,
which is occasionallyannoying to the
poor; yet, as I have always observed, there is
no poverty as painful as your own, so that I
prefer to distribute pecuniary suffering among
many rather than to concentrate it on myself.
That's a rather neat phrase.
About six months after the date of this
annoying adventure, an incident occurred which
altered somewhat, and for a time improved,
my professional position. During my morning
office-hour an old woman came in, and
putting down a large basket, wiped her face
with a yellow-cotton handkerchief, and
afterwards with the corner of her apron. Then
she looked around uneasily, got up, settled
her basket on her arm with a jerk which may
have decided the future of an egg or two, and
remarked briskly: ``Don't see no little bottles
about; got the wrong stall, I guess. You
ain't no homeopath doctor, are you?''
With great presence of mind, I replied:
``Well, ma'am, that depends upon what you
want. Some of my patients like one, and
some like the other.'' I was about to add,
``You pay your money and you take your
choice,'' but thought better of it, and held my
peace, refraining from classical quotation.
``Being as that's the case,'' said the old lady,
``I'll just tell you my symptoms. You said
you give either kind of medicine, didn't you?''
``Just so,'' replied I.
``Clams or oysters, whichever opens most
lively, as my old Joe says--tends the oyster-
stand at stall No. 9. Happen to know Joe?''
No, I did not know Joe; but what were the
symptoms?
They proved to be numerous, and included
a stunning in the head and a misery in the
side, with bokin after victuals.
I proceeded, of course, to apply a stethoscope
over her ample bosom, though what I
heard on this and similar occasions I should
find it rather difficult to state. I remember
well my astonishment in one instance where,
having unconsciouslyapplied my instrument
over a clamorous silver watch in the watch-
fob of a sea-captain, I concluded for a
moment that he was suffering from a rather
remarkable displacement of the heart. As to
my old lady, whose name was Checkers, and
who kept an apple-stand near by, I told her
that I was out of pills just then, but would
have plenty next day. Accordingly, I
proceeded to invest a small amount at a place
called a homeopathic pharmacy, which I
remember amused me immensely.
A stout little German, with great silver
spectacles, sat behind a counter containing
numerous jars of white powders labeled
concisely ``Lac.,'' ``Led.,'' ``Onis.,'' ``Op.,''
``Puls.,'' etc., while behind him were shelves
filled with bottles of what looked like minute
white shot.
``I want some homeopathic medicine,''
said I.
``Vat kindt?'' said my friend. ``Vat you
vants to cure!''
I explained at random that I wished to
treat diseases in general.
``Vell, ve gifs you a case, mit a pook,'' and
thereon produced a large box containing bottles
of small pills and powders, labeled variously
with the names of the diseases, so that
all you required was to use the headache or
colic bottle in order to meet the needs of
those particular maladies.
I was struck at first with the exquisite
simplicity of this arrangement; but before
purchasing, I happened luckily to turn over the
leaves of a book, in two volumes, which lay
might my arrears of rent. Looking out of
the window, however, in the morning, I saw
Stagers prowling about the opposite pavement;
and as the only exit except the street
door was an alleyway which opened along-
side of the front of the house, I gave myself
up for lost. About ten o'clock I took my case
of instruments and started for File's house,
followed, as I too well understood, by Stagers.
I knew the house, which was in a small up-
town street, by its closed windows and the
craped bell, which I shuddered as I touched.
However, it was too late to draw back, and I
therefore inquired for Mrs. File. A haggard-
looking young woman came down, and led
me into a small parlor, for whose darkened
light I was thankful enough.
``Did you write this note?''
``I did,'' said the woman, ``if you're the
coroner. Joe File--he's my husband--he's
gone out to see about the funeral. I wish it
was his, I do.''
``What do you suspect?'' said I.
``I'll tell you,'' she returned in a whisper.
``I think he was made away with. I think
there was foul play. I think he was poisoned.
That's what I think.''
``I hope you may be mistaken,'' said I.
``Suppose you let me see the body.''
``You shall see it,'' she replied; and following
her, I went up-stairs to a front chamber,
where I found the corpse.
``Get it over soon,'' said the woman, with
strange firmness. ``If there ain't no murder
been done I shall have to run for it; if there
was''--and her face set hard--``I guess I'll
stay.'' With this she closed the door and
left me with the dead.
If I had known what was before me I
never could have gone into the thing at all.
It looked a little better when I had opened
a window and let in plenty of light; for
although I was, on the whole, far less afraid
of dead than living men, I had an absurd
feeling that I was doing this dead man a
distinct wrong--as if it mattered to the
dead, after all! When the affair was over,
I thought more of the possible consequences
than of its relation to the dead man himself;
but do as I would at the time, I was in a
ridiculous funk, and especially when going
through the forms of a post-mortem examination.
I am free to confess now that I was
careful not to uncover the man's face, and that
when it was over I backed to the door and
hastily escaped from the room. On the stairs
opposite to me Mrs. File was seated, with her
bonnet on and a bundle in her hand.
``Well,'' said she, rising as she spoke, and
with a certain eagerness in her tone, ``what
killed him? Was it poison?''
``Poison, my good woman!'' said I. ``When
a man has typhoid fever he don't need poison
to kill him. He had a relapse, that's all.''
``And do you mean to say he wasn't
poisoned,'' said she, with more than a trace of
disappointment in her voice--``not poisoned
at all?''
``No more than you are,'' said I. ``If I had
found any signs of foul play I should have
had a regular inquest. As it is, the less said
about it the better. The fact is, it would
have been much wiser to have kept quiet at
the beginning. I can't understand why you
should have troubled me about it at all. The
man had a perforation. It is common enough
in typhoid.''
``That's what the doctor said--I didn't
believe him. I guess now the sooner I leave
the better for me.''
``As to that,'' I returned, ``it is none of my
business; but you may rest certain about the
cause of your brother's death.''
My fears were somewhat quieted that
evening when Stagers and the wolf appeared
with the remainder of the money, and I
learned that Mrs. File had fled from her
home and, as File thought likely, from the
city also. A few months later File himself
disappeared, and Stagers found his way for
the third time into the penitentiary. Then I
felt at ease. I now see, for my own part,
that I was guilty of more than one mistake,
and that I displayed throughout a want of
intelligence. I ought to have asked more,
and also might have got a good fee from
Mrs. File on account of my services as
coroner. It served me, however, as a good
lesson; but it was several months before I
felt quite comfortable.
Meanwhile money became scarce once more,
and I was driven to my wit's end to devise
how I should continue to live as I had done.
I tried, among other plans, that of keeping
certain pills and other medicines, which I
sold to my patients; but on the whole I found
it better to send all my prescriptions to one
druggist, who charged the patient ten or
twenty cents over the correct price, and
handed this amount to me.
In some cases I am told the percentage is
supposed to be a donation on the part of the
apothecary; but I rather fancy the patient
pays for it in the end. It is one of the absurd
vagaries of the profession to discountenance
the practice I have described, but I
wish, for my part, I had never done anything
more foolish or more dangerous. Of course
it inclines a doctor to change his medicines a
good deal, and to order them in large quantities,
which is occasionallyannoying to the
poor; yet, as I have always observed, there is
no poverty as painful as your own, so that I
prefer to distribute pecuniary suffering among
many rather than to concentrate it on myself.
That's a rather neat phrase.
About six months after the date of this
annoying adventure, an incident occurred which
altered somewhat, and for a time improved,
my professional position. During my morning
office-hour an old woman came in, and
putting down a large basket, wiped her face
with a yellow-cotton handkerchief, and
afterwards with the corner of her apron. Then
she looked around uneasily, got up, settled
her basket on her arm with a jerk which may
have decided the future of an egg or two, and
remarked briskly: ``Don't see no little bottles
about; got the wrong stall, I guess. You
ain't no homeopath doctor, are you?''
With great presence of mind, I replied:
``Well, ma'am, that depends upon what you
want. Some of my patients like one, and
some like the other.'' I was about to add,
``You pay your money and you take your
choice,'' but thought better of it, and held my
peace, refraining from classical quotation.
``Being as that's the case,'' said the old lady,
``I'll just tell you my symptoms. You said
you give either kind of medicine, didn't you?''
``Just so,'' replied I.
``Clams or oysters, whichever opens most
lively, as my old Joe says--tends the oyster-
stand at stall No. 9. Happen to know Joe?''
No, I did not know Joe; but what were the
symptoms?
They proved to be numerous, and included
a stunning in the head and a misery in the
side, with bokin after victuals.
I proceeded, of course, to apply a stethoscope
over her ample bosom, though what I
heard on this and similar occasions I should
find it rather difficult to state. I remember
well my astonishment in one instance where,
having unconsciouslyapplied my instrument
over a clamorous silver watch in the watch-
fob of a sea-captain, I concluded for a
moment that he was suffering from a rather
remarkable displacement of the heart. As to
my old lady, whose name was Checkers, and
who kept an apple-stand near by, I told her
that I was out of pills just then, but would
have plenty next day. Accordingly, I
proceeded to invest a small amount at a place
called a homeopathic pharmacy, which I
remember amused me immensely.
A stout little German, with great silver
spectacles, sat behind a counter containing
numerous jars of white powders labeled
concisely ``Lac.,'' ``Led.,'' ``Onis.,'' ``Op.,''
``Puls.,'' etc., while behind him were shelves
filled with bottles of what looked like minute
white shot.
``I want some homeopathic medicine,''
said I.
``Vat kindt?'' said my friend. ``Vat you
vants to cure!''
I explained at random that I wished to
treat diseases in general.
``Vell, ve gifs you a case, mit a pook,'' and
thereon produced a large box containing bottles
of small pills and powders, labeled variously
with the names of the diseases, so that
all you required was to use the headache or
colic bottle in order to meet the needs of
those particular maladies.
I was struck at first with the exquisite
simplicity of this arrangement; but before
purchasing, I happened luckily to turn over the
leaves of a book, in two volumes, which lay
- parlor [´pɑ:lə]
n.客厅；起居室 (初中英语单词) - funeral [´fju:nərəl] n.葬礼，丧葬；困难 (初中英语单词)
- confess [kən´fes] vt.供认；坦白；承认 (初中英语单词)
- bundle [´bʌndl] n.包，捆；包袱(裹) (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- guilty [´gilti] a.有罪的；心虚的 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- scarce [skeəs, skers] a.缺乏的；稀有的 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- amount [ə´maunt] n.总数；数量 v.合计 (初中英语单词)
- percentage [pə´sentidʒ] n.百分数；比例；部分 (初中英语单词)
- profession [prə´feʃən] n.职业；声明；表白 (初中英语单词)
- occasionally [ə´keiʒənəli] ad.偶然地；非经常地 (初中英语单词)
- poverty [´pɔvəti] n.贫穷(乏，瘠)；不足 (初中英语单词)
- distribute [di´stribju:t] vt.分配；分布；散播 (初中英语单词)
- suffering [´sʌfəriŋ] n.痛苦；灾害 (初中英语单词)
- concentrate [´kɔnsəntreit] v.聚集；浓缩；全神贯注 (初中英语单词)
- incident [´insidənt] n.小事件；事变 (初中英语单词)
- professional [prə´feʃənəl] a.职业的 n.自由职业 (初中英语单词)
- handkerchief [´hæŋkətʃif] n.手帕，手绢 (初中英语单词)
- misery [´mizəri] n.痛苦；悲惨；穷困 (初中英语单词)
- astonishment [ə´stɔniʃmənt] n.吃惊；惊异 (初中英语单词)
- instance [´instəns] n.例子，实例，例证 (初中英语单词)
- accordingly [ə´kɔ:diŋli] ad.因此；从而；依照 (初中英语单词)
- invest [in´vest] v.投资；授予 (初中英语单词)
- arrangement [ə´reindʒmənt] n.整理；排列；筹备 (初中英语单词)
- thankful [´θæŋkfəl] a.感激的；欣慰的 (高中英语单词)
- uncover [ʌn´kʌvə] vt.揭开(盖子)；揭露 (高中英语单词)
- eagerness [´i:gənis] n.渴望；热忱 (高中英语单词)
- remainder [ri´meində] n.剩余物；残余部分 (高中英语单词)
- painful [´peinfəl] a.痛(苦)的；费力的 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- counter [´kauntə] n.计算者；柜台；计算机 (高中英语单词)
- random [´rændəm] n.偶然的行动 (高中英语单词)
- headache [´hedeik] n.头痛；使人头痛的事 (高中英语单词)
- firmness [´fə:mnis] n.坚定；坚硬；稳定 (英语四级单词)
- typhoid [´taifɔid] a.伤寒性的 n.伤寒 (英语四级单词)
- briskly [´briskli] ad.轻快地；活泼地 (英语四级单词)
- classical [´klæsikəl] a.经典的；传统的 (英语四级单词)
- unconsciously [ʌn´kɔʃəsli] ad.无意识地；不觉察地 (英语四级单词)
- annoying [ə´nɔiiŋ] a.使人气恼的；讨厌的 (英语六级单词)
- uneasily [ʌn´i:zili] ad.不安地；局促地 (英语六级单词)
- whichever [witʃ´evə] a.&pron.无论哪个(些) (英语六级单词)
- applied [ə´plaid] a.实用的，应用的 (英语六级单词)
- clamorous [´klæmərəs] a.喧闹的；吵吵嚷嚷的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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