Danger; or Wounded in the House of a Friend

T >> T. S. Arthur >> Danger; or Wounded in the House of a Friend

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"You make out rather a strong case," said Doctor Hillhouse.

"Too strong, do you think?"

"Perhaps not. Looking at the thing through your eyes, Mr. Carlton,
moderate drinking is an evil of great magnitude."

"It is assuredly, and far greater, as I have said, than is generally
supposed. The children of this world are very wise, and some of
them, I am sorry to add, very unscrupulous in gaining their ends.
They know the power of all the agencies that are around them, and do
not scruple to make use of whatever comes to their hand. Three or
four capitalists are invited to meet at a gentleman's house to
consider some proposition he has to lay before them. They are
liberally supplied with wine, and drink without a lurking suspicion
of what the service of good wine means. They see in it only the
common hospitality of the day, and fail to notice that one or two of
the company never empty their glasses. On the next day these men
will most likely feel some doubt as to the prudence of certain large
subscriptions made on the previous afternoon or evening, and wonder
how they could have been so infatuated as to put money into a scheme
that promised little beyond a permanent investment.

"If," added Mr. Carlton, "we could come at any proximate estimate of
the loss which falls upon society in consequence of the moderate use
of intoxicating drinks, we would find that it exceeded a
hundred--nay, a thousand--fold that of the losses sustained through
drunkenness. Against the latter society is all the while seeking to
guard itself, against the former it has little or no
protection--does not, in fact, comprehend the magnitude of its power
for evil. But I have wearied you with my talk, and forgotten for the
time being the anxiety that lies so near my heart. No, doctor, I
will not trust the hand of Doctor Kline, skillful as it may be, to
do this work; for I cannot be sure that a glass too much may not
have been taken to steady the nerves a night's excess of wine may
have left unstrung."

Doctor Hillhouse sat with closely knit brows for some time after Mr.
Carlton ceased speaking.

"There is matter for grave consideration in what you have said," he
remarked, at length, "though I apprehend your fears in regard to
Doctor Kline are more conjectural than real."

"I hope so," returned Mr. Carlton, "but as a prudent man I will not
take needless risk in the face of danger. If an operation cannot be
avoided, I will trust that precious life to none but you."

CHAPTER XVII.

WE have seen how it was with Doctor Hillhouse on the morning of the
day fixed for the operation. The very danger that Mr. Carlton sought
to avert in his rejection of Doctor Kline was at his door. Not
having attended the party at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's, he did not
know that Doctor Hillhouse had, with most of the company, indulged
freely in wine. If a suspicion of the truth had come to him, he
would have refused to let the operation proceed. But like a
passenger in some swiftly-moving car who has faith in the clear head
and steady hand of the engineer, his confidence in Doctor Hillhouse
gave him a feeling of security.

But far from this condition of faith in himself was the eminent
surgeon in whom he was reposing his confidence. He had, alas!
tarried too long at the feast of wine and fat things dispensed by
Mr. Birtwell, and in his effort to restore the relaxed tension of
his nerves by stimulation had sent too sudden an impulse to his
brain, and roused it to morbid action. His coffee failed to soothe
the unquiet nerves, his stomach turned from the food on which he had
depended for a restoration of the equipoise which the night's
excesses had destroyed. The dangerous condition of Mrs. Ridley and
his forced visit to that lady in the early morning, when he should
have been free from all unusual effort and excitement, but added to
his disturbance.

Doctor Hillhouse knew all about the previous habits of Mr. Ridley,
and was much interested in his case. He had seen with hope and
pleasure the steadiness with which he was leading his new life, and
was beginning to have strong faith in his future. But when he met
him on that morning, he knew by unerring signs that the evening at
Mr. Birtwell's had been to him one of debauch instead of restrained
conviviality. The extremity of his wife's condition, and his almost
insane appeals that he would hold her back from death, shocked still
further the doctor's already quivering nerves.

The imminent peril in which Doctor Hillhouse found Mrs. Ridley
determined him to call in another physician for consultation. As
twelve o'clock on that day had been fixed for the operation on Mrs.
Carlton, it was absolutely necessary to get his mind as free as
possible from all causes of anxiety or excitement, and the best
thing in this extremity was to get his patient into the hands of a
brother in the profession who could relieve him temporarily from
_all_ responsibility, and watch the case with all needed care in its
swiftly approaching crisis. So he sent Doctor Angier, immediately on
his return from his visit to Mrs. Ridley, with a request to Doctor
Ainsworth, a physician of standing and experience, to meet him in
consultation at ten o'clock.

Precisely at ten the physicians arrived at the house of Mr. Ridley,
and were admitted by that gentleman, whose pale, haggard, frightened
face told of his anguish and alarm. They asked him no questions, and
he preceded them in silence to the chamber of his sick wife. It
needed no second glance at their patient to tell the two doctors
that she was in great extremity. Her pinched face was ashen in color
and damp with a cold sweat, and her eyes, no longer wild and
restless, looked piteous and anxious, as of one in dreadful
suffering who pleaded mutely for help. An examination of her pulse
showed the beat to be frequent and feeble, and on the slightest
movement she gave signs of pain. Her respiration was short and very
rapid. Mr. Ridley was present, and standing in a position that
enabled him to observe the faces of the two doctors as they
proceeded with their examination. Hope died as he saw the
significant changes that passed over them. When they left the
sick-chamber, he left also, and walked the floor anxiously while
they sat in consultation, talking together in low tones. Now and
then he caught words, such as "peritoneum," "lesion," "perforation,"
etc., the fatal meaning of which he more than half guessed.

They were still in consultation when a sudden cry broke from the
lips of Mrs. Ridley; and rising hastily, they went back to her
chamber. Her face was distorted and her body writhing with pain.

Doctor Hillhouse wrote a prescription hastily, saying to Mr. Ridley
as he gave it to him: "Opium, and get it as quickly as you can."

The sick woman had scarcely a moment's freedom from pain of a most
excruciating character during the ten minutes that elapsed before
her husband's return. The quantity of opium administered was large,
and its effects soon apparent in a gradual breaking down of the
pains, which had been almost spasmodic in their character.

When Doctor Hillhouse went away, leaving Doctor Ainsworth in charge
of his patient, she was sinking: into a quiet sleep. On arriving at
his office he found Mr. Wilmer Voss impatiently awaiting his return.

"Doctor," said this gentleman, starting up on seeing him and showing
considerable agitation, "you must come to my wife immediately."

Doctor Hillhouse felt stunned for an instant. He drew his hand
tightly against his forehead, that was heavy with its dull,
half-stupefying pain which, spite of what he could do, still held
on. All his nerves were unstrung.

"How is she?" he asked, with the manner of one who had received an
unwelcome message. His hand was still held against his forehead.

"She broke all down a little while ago, and now lies moaning and
shivering. Oh, doctor, come right away! You know how weak she is.
This dreadful suspense will kill her, I'm afraid."

Have you no word of Archie yet?" asked Doctor Hillhouse as he
dropped the hand he had been holding against his forehead and
temples.

"None! So far, we are without a sign."

"What are you doing?"

"Everything that can be thought of. More than twenty of our friends,
in concert with the police, are at work in all conceivable ways to
get trace of him, but from the moment he left Mr. Birtwell's he
dropped out of sight as completely as if the sea had gone over him.
Up to this time not the smallest clue to this dreadful mystery has
been found. But come, doctor. Every moment is precious."

Doctor Hillhouse drew out his watch. It was now nearly half-past ten
o'clock. His manner was nervous, verging on to excitement. In almost
any other case he would have said that it was not possible for him
to go. But the exigency and the peculiarly distressing circumstances
attending upon this made it next to impossible for him to refuse.

"At twelve o'clock, Mr. Voss, I have a delicate and difficult
operation to perform, and I have too short a time now for the
preparation I need. I am sure you can rely fully on my assistant,
Doctor Angler."

"No, no!" replied Mr. Voss, waving his hand almost impatiently. "I do
not want Doctor Angier. You must see Mrs. Voss yourself."

He was imperative, almost angry. What was the delicate and difficult
operation to him? What was anything or anybody that stood in the way
of succor for his imperiled wife? He could not pause to think of
others' needs or danger.

Doctor Hillhouse had to decide quickly, and his decision was on the
side where pressure was strongest. He could not deny Mr. Voss.

He found the poor distressed mother in a condition of utter
prostration. For a little while after coming out of the swoon into
which her first wild fears had thrown her, she had been able to
maintain a tolerably calm exterior. But the very effort to do this
was a draught on her strength, and in a few hours, under the
continued suspense of waiting and hearing nothing from her boy, the
overstrained nerves broke down again, and she sunk into a condition
of half-conscious suffering that was painful to see.

For such conditions medicine can do but little. All that Doctor
Hillhouse ventured to prescribe was a quieting draught. It was after
eleven o'clock when he got back to his office, where he found Mr.
Ridley waiting for him with a note from Doctor Ainsworth.

"Come for just a single moment," the note said. "There are marked
changes in her condition."

"I cannot! It is impossible!" exclaimed Doctor Hillhouse, with an
excitement of manner he could not repress. Doctor Ainsworth can do
all that it is in the power of medical skill to accomplish. It will
not help her for me to go again now, and another life is in my
hands. I am sorry, Mr. Ridley, but I cannot see your wife again
until this afternoon.

"Oh, doctor, doctor, don't say that!" cried the poor, distressed
husband, clasping his hands and looking at Doctor Hillhouse with a
pale, imploring face. "Just for single moment, doctor. Postpone your
operation. Ten minutes, or even an hour, can be of no consequence.
But life or death may depend on your seeing my wife at once. Come,
doctor! Come, for God's sake!"

Doctor Hillhouse looked at his watch again, stood in a bewildered,
uncertain way for a few moments, and then turned quickly toward the
door and went out, Mr. Ridley following.

"Get in," he said, waving his hand in the direction of his carriage,
which still remained in front of his office. Mr. Ridley obeyed.
Doctor Hillhouse gave the driver a hurried direction, and sprang in
after him. They rode in silence for the whole distance to Mr.
Ridley's dwelling.

One glance at the face of the sick woman was enough to show Doctor
Hillhouse that she was beyond the reach of professional skill. Her
disease, as he had before seen, had taken on its worst form, and was
running its fatal course with a malignant impetuosity it was
impossible to arrest. The wild fever of anxiety occasioned by her
husband's absence during that dreadful night, the cold to which, in
her delirium of fear, she had exposed herself, the great shock her
delicate organism had sustained at a time when even the slightest
disturbance might lead to serious consequences,--all these causes
combined had so broken down her vitality and poisoned her blood that
nature had no force strong enough to rally against the enemies of
her life.

A groan that sounded like a wail of desperation broke from Mr.
Ridley's lips as he came in with the doctor and looked at the
death-stricken countenance of his wife. The two physicians gazed at
each other with ominous faces, and stood silent and helpless at the
bedside.

When Doctor Hillhouse hurried away ten minutes afterward he knew
that he had looked for the last time upon his patient. Mr. Ridley
did not attempt to detain him. Hope had expired, and he sat bowed
and crushed, wishing that he could die.

The large quantity of opium which had been taken by Mrs. Ridley held
all her outward senses locked, and she passed away, soon after
Doctor Hillhouse retired, without giving her husband a parting word
or even a sign of recognition.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WHEN Doctor Hillhouse arrived at his office, it lacked only a
quarter of an hour to twelve, the time fixed for the operation on
Mrs. Carlton. He found Doctor Kline and Doctor Angier, who were to
assist him, both awaiting his return.

"I thought twelve o'clock the hour?" said Doctor Kline as he came in
hurriedly.

"So it is. But everything has seemed to work adversely this morning.
Mr. Ridley's wife is extremely ill--dying, in fact--and I have had
to see her too or three times. Other calls have been imperative, and
here I am within a quarter of an hour of the time fixed for a most
delicate operation, and my preparations not half completed."

Doctor Kline regarded him for a few moments, and then said:

"This is unfortunate, doctor, and I would advise a postponement
until to-morrow. You should have had a morning free from anything
but unimportant calls."

"Oh no. I cannot think of a postponement," Doctor Hillhouse replied.
"All the arrangements have been made at Mr. Carlton's, and my
patient is ready. To put it off for a single day might cause a
reaction in her feelings and produce an unfavorable condition. It
will have to be done to-day."

"You must not think of keeping your appointment to the hour," said
Doctor Kline, glancing at his watch. "Indeed, that would now be
impossible. Doctor Angier had better go and say that we will be
there within half an hour. Don't hurry yourself in the slightest
degree. Take all the time you need to make yourself ready. I will
remain and assist you as best I can."

A clear-seeing and controlling mind was just what Doctor Hillhouse
needed at that moment. He saw the value of Doctor Kline's
suggestion, and promptly accepted it. Doctor Angier was despatched
to the residence of Mr. Carlton to advise that gentleman of the
brief delay and to make needed preparations for the work that was to
be done.

The very necessity felt by Doctor Hillhouse for a speedy repression
of the excitement from which he was suffering helped to increase the
disturbance, and it was only after he had used a stimulant stronger
than he wished to take that he found his nerves becoming quiet and
the hand on whose steadiness so much depended growing firm.

At half-past twelve Doctor Hillhouse, in company with Doctor Kline,
arrived at Mr. Carlton's. The white face and scared look of the
female servant who admitted them showed how strongly fear and
sympathy were at work in the house. She directed them to the room
which had been set apart for their use. In the hall above Mr.
Carlton met them, and returned with a trembling hand and silent
pressure the salutation of the two physicians, who passed into a
chamber next to the one occupied by their patient and quickly began
the work of making everything ready. Acting from previous concert,
they drew the table which had been provided into the best light
afforded by the room, and then arranged instruments, bandages and
all things needed for the work to be done.

When all these preparations were completed, notice was given to Mrs.
Carlton, who immediately entered from the adjoining room. She was a
beautiful woman, in the very prime of life, and never had she
appeared more beautiful than now. Her strong will had mastered fear,
strength, courage and resignation looked out from her clear eyes and
rested on her firm lips. She smiled, but did not speak. Doctor
Hillhouse took her by the hand and led her to the table on which she
was to lie during the operation, saying, as he did so, "It will be
over in a few minutes, and you will not feel it as much as the
scratch of a pin."

She laid herself down without a moment's hesitation, and as she did
so Doctor Angier, according to previous arrangement, presented a
sponge saturated with ether to her nostrils, and in two minutes
complete anaesthesis was produced. On the instant this took place
Doctor Hillhouse made an incision and cut down quickly to the tumor.
His hand was steady, and he seemed to be in perfect command of
himself. The stimulants he had taken as a last resort were still
active on brain and nerves. On reaching the tumor he found it, as he
had feared, much larger than its surface presentation indicated. It
was a hard, fibrous substance, and deeply seated among the veins,
arteries and muscles of the neck. The surgeon's hand retained its
firmness; there was a concentration of thought and purpose that gave
science and skill their best results. It took over twenty minutes to
dissect the tumor away from all the delicate organs upon which it
had laid its grasp, and nearly half as long a time to stanch the
flow of blood from the many small arteries which had been severed
during the operation. One of these, larger than the rest, eluded for
a time the efforts of Doctor Hillhouse at ligation, and he felt
uncertain about it even after he had stopped the effusion of blood.
In fact, his hand had become unsteady and his brain slightly
confused. The active stimulant taken half an hour before was losing
its effect and his nerves beginning to give way. He was no longer
master of the situation, and the last and, as it proved, the most
vital thing in the whole operation was done imperfectly.

At the end of thirty-five minutes the patient, still under the
influence of ether was carried back to her chamber and laid back
upon her bed, quiet as a sleeping infant.

"It is all over," said Doctor Hillhouse as the eyes of Mrs. Carlton
unclosed a little while afterward and she looked up into his face.
He was no longer the impassive surgeon, but the tender and
sympathizing friend. His voice was flooded with feeling and moisture
dimmed his eyes.

What a look of sweet thankfulness came into the face of Mrs. Carlton
as she whispered, "And I knew nothing of it!" Then, shutting her
eyes and speaking to herself, she said, "It is wonderful. Thank God,
thank God!"

It was almost impossible to, restrain Mr. Carlton, so excessive was
his delight when the long agony of suspense was over. Doctor
Hillhouse had to grasp his arm tightly and hold him back as he
stooped down over his wife. In the blindness of his great joy he
would have lifted her in his arms.

"Perfect quiet," said the doctor. "There must be nothing to give her
heart a quicker pulsation. Doctor Angier will remain for half an
hour to see that all goes well."

The two surgeons then retired, Doctor Kline accompanying Doctor
Hillhouse to his office. The latter was silent all the way. The
strain over and the alcoholic stimulation gone, mind and body had
alike lost their abnormal tension.

"I must congratulate you, doctor," said the friendly surgeon who had
assisted in the operation. "It was even more difficult than I had
imagined. I never saw a case in which the sheathings of the internal
jugular vein and carotid artery were so completely involved. The
tumor had made its ugly adhesion all around them. I almost held my
breath when the blood from a severed artery spurted over your
scalpel and hid from sight the keen edge that was cutting around the
internal jugular. A false movement of the hand at that instant might
have been fatal."

"Yes; and but for the clearness of that inner sight which, in great
exigencies, so often supplements the failing natural vision, all
might have been lost," replied Doctor Hillhouse, betraying in his
unsteady voice the great reaction from which he was suffering. "If I
had known," he added, "that the tumor was so large and its adhesion
so extensive, I would not have operated to-day. In fact, I was in no
condition for the performance of any operation. I committed a great
indiscretion in going to Mr. Birtwell's last night. Late suppers and
wine do not leave one's nerves in the best condition, as you and I
know very well, doctor; and as a preparation for work such as we
have had on hand to-day nothing could be worse."

"Didn't I hear something about the disappearance of a young man who
left Mr. Birtwell's at a late hour?" asked Doctor Kline.

"Nothing has been heard of the son of Wilmer Voss since he went away
from Mr. Birtwell's about one o'clock," replied Doctor Hillhouse,
"and his family are in great distress about him. Mrs. Voss, who is
one of my patients, is in very delicate health and when I saw her at
eleven o'clock to-day was lying in a critical condition."

"There is something singular about that party at Mr. and Mrs.
Birtwell's, added Doctor Hillhouse, after a pause. I hardly know
what to make of it."

"Singular in what respect?" asked the other.

The face of Doctor Hillhouse grew more serious:

"You know Mr. Ridley, the lawyer? He was in Congress a few years
ago."

"Yes."

"He was very intemperate at one time, and fell so low that even his
party rejected him. He then reformed and came to this city, where he
entered upon the practice of his profession, and has been for a year
or two advancing rapidly. I attended his wife a few days ago, and
saw her yesterday afternoon, when she was continuing to do well.
There were some indications of excitement about her, though whether
from mental or physical causes I could not tell, but nothing to
awaken concern. This morning I found her in a most critical
condition. Puerperal fever had set in, with evident extensive
peritoneal involvement. The case was malignant, all the abdominal
viscera being more or less affected. I learned from the nurse that
Mr. Ridley was away all night, and that Mrs. Ridley, who was
restless and feverish through the evening, became agitated and
slightly delirious after twelve o'clock, talking about and calling
for her husband, whom she imagined dying in the storm, that now
raged with dreadful violence. No help could be had all night; and
when we saw her this morning, it was too late for medicine to
control the fatal disease which was running its course with almost
unprecedented rapidity. She was dying when I saw her at half-past
eleven this morning. This case and that of Mrs. Voss were the ones
that drew so largely on my time this morning, and helped to disturb
me so much, and both were in consequence of Mr. Birtwell's party."

"They might have an indirect connection with the party," returned
Doctor Kline, "but can hardly be called legitimate consequences."

"They are legitimate consequences of the free wine and brandy
dispensed at Mr. Birtwell's," said Doctor Hillhouse. "Tempted by its
sparkle and flavor, Archie Voss, as pure and promising a young man
as you will find in the city, was lured on until he had taken more
than his brain would bear. In this state he went out at midnight
alone in a blinding storm and lost his way--how or where is not yet
known. He may have been set upon and robbed and murdered in his
helpless condition, or he may have fallen into a pit where he lies
buried beneath the snow, or he may have wandered in his blind
bewilderment to the river and gone down under its chilling waters.

"Mr. Ridley, with his old appetite not dead, but only half asleep
and lying in wait for an opportunity, goes also to Mr. Birtwell's,
and the sparkle and flavor of wine and the invitations that are
pressed upon him from all sides prove too much for his good
resolutions. He tastes and falls. He goes in his right mind, and
comes away so much intoxicated that he cannot find his way home. How
he reached there at last I do not know--he must have been in some
station-house until daylight; but when I saw him, his pitiable
suffering and alarmed face made my heart ache. He had killed his
wife! He, or the wine he found at Mr. Birtwell's? Which?"

Doctor Hillhouse was nervous and excited, using stronger language
than was his wont.

"And I," he added, before Doctor Kline could respond--"I went to the
party also, and the sparkle and flavor of wine and spirit of
conviviality that pervaded the company lured me also--not weak like
Archie, nor with a shattered self-control like Mr. Ridley--to drink
far beyond the bounds of prudence, as my nervous condition to-day
too surely indicates. A kind of fatality seems to have attended this
party."

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