Part 17 (1/2)

”Doctor Gallagher, I believe?” he said. ”Allow me to introduce myself.

My name is Milbanke. I am a very old friend of your patient.”

With a slow but friendly gesture, the young man held out his hand.

”Oh, I know all about you!” he said. ”I'm glad to make your acquaintance.”

His voice, with its marked Irish accent, was soft and pleasant, and his glance was good-natured; but his tanned skin and rough shooting-suit suggested the sportsman rather than the medical pract.i.tioner.

Milbanke eyed him quickly.

”Then you won't misunderstand anything I may say?”

Gallagher smiled.

”Not a bit of it!” he answered nonchalantly. ”And what's more, I think I know what it's going to be.”

A shade of confusion pa.s.sed over the Englishman's face. His understanding was still unattuned to the half-shrewd, half-inquisitive tendencies of the Irish mind. With a shadowy suspicion that he was being un.o.btrusively ridiculed, he became a degree colder.

”I am grieved beyond measure at Mr. a.s.shlin's condition, Doctor Gallagher,” he said, ”and it has struck me--it has been suggested to my mind that possibly----” He stopped uncertainly. ”That possibly----”

”That perhaps there ought to be another opinion?” Gallagher looked at him complacently. ”Well, maybe you're right. 'Tisn't because _I_ condemn him that he shouldn't appeal to a higher court.”

Milbanke started.

”Then you think poorly of his chances?”

Gallagher shook his head expressively.

”You despair of him?”

A pang of unexpected grief touched Milbanke. He realised suddenly how distant, vague, and yet how real a part the ideal of his youth had played in his life and thoughts; how deep a niche, unknown to them both, a.s.shlin had carved for himself. With a sense of loss altogether disproportionate to circ.u.mstances, he turned again to the doctor.

”Yes, I should like another opinion,” he said quickly. ”The best we can get--the best in Ireland. We can't get a man from town sooner than to-morrow, and time is everything. I suppose Dublin is the place to wire to? Not that I am disparaging you,” he added. ”I feel confident you have done everything.”

Gallagher smiled.

”Oh, I'm not taking offence. It's only human nature to think what you do. I'll meet any one you like to name. But he'll say the same as me.”

”And that is?”

”That he's done for.” Gallagher lowered his voice. ”He hasn't the stamina to pull through, even if we could patch him up. He's been undermining that big frame of his for the last ten years. No man nowadays can sit up half the night drinking port without paying heavily for it. Many a time, driving home from a late call, I've seen the light in these windows at three in the morning.”

Milbanke pulled out his watch.

”But these Dublin doctors,” he said. ”Tell me their names.”

Gallagher pondered a moment.

”Well, there's Dowden-Gregg and Merrick,” he said. ”And of course there's Molyneaux. Molyneaux is a magnificent surgeon. If any man in Ireland can make a suggestion, he will. But of course his fee----”