Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XXIII. More Doctors
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me as she feared something was wrong, she
was feeling very uneasy about what was going
on. She was right there. The heart had been
kept too long under digitalis, the patient was
in immediate danger of his life from the effect
of the drug. My colleague was just going to
give him another injection when I snatched the
syringe from him and read the terrible truth
in his wild eye. He was not a charlatan, he was
a madman.
What was I to do? Denounce him as a
charlatan? It would only increase the number
of his patients and maybe of his victims.
Denounce him as a lunatic? It would mean the
irreparable ruin of his whole career. What
proofs could I produce? The dead could not
speak, the living would not speak. His patients,
his nurses, his friends would all side against
me, I who of all men would profit most by his
downfall. Do nothing, and leave him in his
place, a maniac arbiter of life and death?
After long hesitation I decided to speak to
his ambassador who was, I knew, on very
friendly terms with him. The ambassador
refused to believe me. He had known my colleague
for years, he had always looked upon him as
an able and reliable doctor, he had himself
greatly benefited by his treatment and so had
his family. He had always considered him a
very excitable and somewhat eccentric man,
but as to the lucidity of his mind he was sure
he was as sound in his head as we were.
Suddenly the ambassador burst into one of his usual
roars of laughter. He said he could not help
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