The Tracer of Lost Persons Part 38

"I--I did not suppose you would remember me," she said, rosy with pleasure.

"Remember you? Surely, surely." He made her a quaint, old-fas.h.i.+oned bow, turned, and peeped across the walk at Carden. And Carden, looking straight into his face, did not know the old man, who turned to Dr.

Hollis again with many mysterious nods of his doddering head.

"You're watching him, too, are you?" he chuckled, leaning toward her.

"Watching whom, Dr. Atwood?" she asked surprised.

"Hush, child! I thought you had noticed that unfortunate and afflicted young man opposite."

Dr. Hollis looked curiously at Carden, then at the old gentleman with gray whiskers.

"Please sit down, Dr. Atwood, and tell me," she murmured. "I have noticed nothing in particular about the young man on the bench there."

And she moved to give him room; and the young man opposite stared at them both as though bereft of reason.

"A heavy book for small hands, my child," said the old gentleman in his quaintly garrulous fas.h.i.+on, peering with dimmed eyes at the volume in her lap.

She smiled, looking around at him.

"My, my!" he said, tremblingly raising his eyegla.s.ses to scan the t.i.tle on the page; "Dr. Lamour's famous works! Are _you_ studying Lamour, child?"

"Yes," she said with that charming inflection youth reserves for age.

"Astonis.h.i.+ng!" he murmured. "The coincidence is more than remarkable. A physician! And studying Lamour's Disease! Incredible!"

"Is there anything strange in that, Dr. Atwood?" she smiled.

"Strange!" He lowered his voice, peering across at Carden. "Strange, did you say? Look across the path at that poor young man sitting there!"

"Yes," she said, perplexed, "I see him."

"_What_ do you see?" whispered the old gentleman in a shakily portentous voice. "Here you sit reading about what others have seen; now what do _you_ see?"

"Why, only a man--rather young--"

"No _symptoms_?"

"Symptoms? Of what?"

The old gentleman folded his withered hands over his cane. "My child,"

he said, "for a year I have had that unfortunate young man under secret observation. He was not aware of it; it never entered his mind that I could be observing _him_ with minutest attention. He may have supposed there was nothing the matter with him. He was in error. I have studied him carefully. Look closer! _Are_ there dark circles under his eyes--or are there not?" he ended in senile triumph.

"There are," she began, puzzled, "but I--but of what interest to me--"

"Compare his symptoms with the symptoms in that book you are studying,"

said the old gentleman hoa.r.s.ely.

"Do you mean--do you suppose--" she stammered, turning her eyes on Carden, who promptly blushed to his ears and began to fidget.

"_Every symptom_," muttered the old gentleman. "Poor, poor young man!"

She had seen Carden turn a vivid pink; she now saw him fidget with his walking stick; she discovered the blue circles under his eyes. Three symptoms at once!

"Do you believe it _possible_?" she whispered excitedly under her breath to the old gentleman beside her. "It seems incredible! Such a rare disease! Only one single case ever described and studied! It seems impossible that I could be so fortunate as actually to see a case! Tell me, Dr. Atwood, do you believe that young man is really afflicted with Lamour's Disease?"

"There is but one way to be absolutely certain," said the old gentleman in a solemn voice, "and that is to study him; corroborate your suspicions by observing his pulse and temperature, as did Dr. Lamour."

"But--how can I?" she faltered. "I--he would probably object to becoming a patient of mine--"

"Ask him, child! Ask him."

"I have not courage--"

"Courage should be the badge of your profession," said the old gentleman gravely. "When did a good physician ever show the white feather in the cause of humanity?"

"I--I know, but this requires a different sort of courage."

"How," persisted the old gentleman, "can you confirm your very natural suspicions concerning this unfortunate young man unless you corroborate your observations by studying him at close range? Besides, already it seems to me that certain unmistakable signs are visible; I mean that strange physical phase which Dr. Lamour dwells on: the symmetry of feature and limb, the curiously spiritual beauty. Do you not notice these? Or is my sight so dim that I only imagine it?"

"He is certainly symmetrical--and--in a certain way--almost handsome in regard to features," she admitted, looking at Carden.

"Poor, poor boy!" muttered the old gentleman, wagging his gray whiskers.

"I am too old to help him--too old to dream of finding a remedy for the awful malady which I am now convinced has seized him. I shall study him no more. It is useless. All I can do now is to mention his case to some young, vigorous, ambitious physician--some specialist--"

"Don't!" she whispered almost fiercely, "don't do that, Dr. Atwood! I want him, please! I--you helped me to discover him, you see. And his malady is to be my specialty. Please, do you mind if I keep him all to myself and study him?"

"But you refused, child."

"I didn't mean to. I--I didn't exactly see how I was to study him. But I must study him! Oh, I _must_! There will surely be some way. Please let me. You discovered him, I admit, but I will promise you faithfully to devote my entire life to studying him, as the great Lamour devoted his life for forty years to his single patient."

"But Dr. Lamour married his patient," said the Tracer mildly.

"He--I--that need not be necessary--"

"But if it should prove necessary?"

"I--you--"

"Answer me, child."

She stared across at Carden, biting her red lips. He turned pink promptly and fidgeted.

"He _has_ got it!" she whispered excitedly. "Oh, _do_ you mind if I take him for mine? I am perfectly wild to begin on him!"

"You have not yet answered my question," said the old gentleman gravely.

"Do you lack the courage to marry him if it becomes necessary to do so in order to devote your entire life to studying him?"

"Oh--it _cannot_ be necessary--"