Part 4 (2/2)
I was so astonished that I was for a time unable to a speak. The deep plot itself, the proposition made to me to a.s.sist her, and the cool manner of the lady herself, fairly staggered me. At length, speaking as calmly as I could, I tried to convince Mrs. Quintin of the enormity of the crime she intended to commit, telling her that, if she wished to adopt a child, she would find it quite an easy matter to do so without taking any such course as she evidently intended; and, after arguing for some time, she seemed to yield a little to reason, and promised to do nothing rashly. She had already, however, committed herself to the first part of her programme, and told her husband a falsehood; how was she to undeceive him? I suggested that she should tell him on his return that she had been mistaken, and that on examination I had found nothing unusual the matter with her. This she positively refused to do, saying that her husband had so set his heart on this one object that, were his hopes suddenly dashed to the ground, he might do something desperate.
She said she would break it to him gently, and, imploring me to say nothing to him of what had pa.s.sed, she escorted me to the door, and, with tearful eyes, bade me farewell.
Several months elapsed, and I had, for the time, thought little of either Mr. and Mrs. Quintin, when one evening in glancing over the papers, my eye fell on the following announcement: ”On the ----th inst., at ---- Cadieux street the wife of R. Quintin of a daughter.” I let the paper drop as I gazed vacantly at the ceiling and tried to realize the whole affair. Undecided how to act, I mechanically put on my bonnet and cloak, and walked up Cadieux street, when, coming out of the house, I spied my friend, Dr. P----.
”Good evening, Doctor,” said I.
”Oh, good evening, Mrs. Schroeder. I have just been attending a patient of yours; it seems they were not at all prepared, and had not time to notify you. Indeed, I was late myself, as I did not arrive till some minutes after the child was born.”
Without saying a word I beckoned the Doctor aside, and made a sign that I wished to speak with him privately. He invited me to step into his carriage, and we drove in perfect silence to his residence in Beaver Hall Terrace. Alighting, he preceded me to his surgery, and closed the door; then, with a look full of meaning, he said:
”Well, what is there wrong here?”
”I said, Before I reply, will you permit me to ask you one or two questions.”
”Who called you to attend Mrs. Quintin?”
”A carter came and requested me to come with all speed to attend a lady in Cadieux street. I went as quickly as possible, but the child was born before my arrival.”
”Who, then, attended the lady?”
”The nurse did, and apparently very satisfactorily indeed. I found the bandages so well arranged, and the patient's pulse so strong and regular, that I left, perfectly satisfied that all was properly attended to till your arrival. They explained to me that the lady was your patient, but that being unexpectedly taken ill, she had ordered the carter to bring the first doctor he found at home.”
”Was Mr. Quintin at home?”
”No; he is gone to England to purchase some goods.”
”Ah! That accounts for it then.”
”Accounts for what? Really you must not catechize me any further. What is there underneath all these questions?”
I drew my chair closer to him, as I said tragically:
”Mrs. Quintin _never had a child_.”
”This rather staggered the good old doctor, who had just come from the house, where he had examined and weighed the infant. He started up from his chair, and, drawing back, exclaimed:
”What do you mean? Explain yourself.”
I then at length narrated all I knew concerning the Quintin family, and, as I proceeded with my story, the old man's eyes opened wider and wider as he exclaimed:
”My G.o.d what a diabolical plot”!
”Yes, indeed, and I was invited to join in it.”
”Well, well. _I_ certainly would never have suspected anything of the kind.”
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