Master of His Fate | Page 8

mother's request.
He hoped that his friend would take the cue, and tell him something of
his family. Julius, however, said nothing but "Indeed." Lefevre then
tried to tempt him into confession by talking about his own father and
mother, and by relating how the French name "Lefevre" came to be
domiciled in England; but Julius ignored the temptation, and dismissed
the question in an eloquent flourish.
"What does a man want with a family and a name? They only tie him to
the earth, as Gulliver was tied by the people of Lilliput. We have life
and health,--if we have them,--and it is only veiled prurience to inquire
whence we got them. A man can't help having a father and a mother, I
suppose; but he need not be always reminding himself of the fact: no
other creature on earth does. For myself, I wish I were like that
extraordinary person, Melchizedek, without father and without mother,
without descent, having neither beginning of days nor end of life."
In a little while the friends parted. Lefevre said he had work to do, but
he did not anticipate such work as he had to turn to that night. Though
the doctor was a bachelor, he had a professional residence apart from
his mother and sister. They lived in a small house in Curzon Street; he
dwelt in Savile Row. Savile Row was a place of consequence long
before Regent Street was thought of, but now they are few who know
of its existence. Fashion ignores it. It is tenanted by small clubs,
learned societies, and doctors. It slumbers in genteel decorum, with its
back to the garish modern thoroughfare. It is always quiet, but by nine
o'clock of a dark evening it is deserted. When Dr Lefevre, therefore,
stepped out of his hired hansom, and prepared to put his latch-key in
his own door, he was arrested by a hoarse-voiced hawker of evening
news bursting in upon the repose of the Row with a continuous roar of
"Special--Mystery--Paper--Railway--Special--Brighton--Paper--Victori
a --Special!" It was with some effort, and only when the man was close
at hand, that he interpreted the sounds into these words.
"Paper, sir," said the man; and he bought it and went in. He entered his
dining-room, and read the following paragraph;--
"A Mysterious Case.

"A report has reached us that a young man, about two or four and
twenty years of age, whose name is at present unknown, was found
yesterday (Sunday) to all appearance dead in a first-class carriage of the
5 P.M. train from Brighton to Victoria. The discovery was only made at
Grosvenor Road Station, where tickets are taken before entering
Victoria. At Victoria the body was searched for purposes of
identification, and there was found upon him a card with the following
remarkable inscription:--'I am not dead. Take me to the St. James's
Hospital.' To St. James's Hospital accordingly the young man was
conveyed. It seems probable he is in a condition of trance--not for the
first time--since he was provided with the card, and knew the hospital
with which is associated in all men's minds the name of Dr Lefevre,
who is so famous for his skill in the treatment of nervous disorders."
In matters of plain duty Dr Lefevre had got into the excellent habit of
acting first and thinking afterwards. He at once rang the bell, and
ordered the responsible serving-man who appeared to call a cab. The
man went to the door and sounded his shrill whistle, grateful to the ears
of several loitering cabbies. There was a mad race of growlers and
hansoms for the open door. Dr Lefevre got into the first hansom that
drew up, and drove off to the hospital. By that time he had told himself
that the young man must be a former patient of his (though he did not
remember any such), and that he ought to see him at once, although it is
not for the visiting physician of a hospital to appear, except between
fixed hours of certain days. He made nothing of the mystery which the
newspaper wished, after the manner of its kind, to cast about the case,
and thought of other things, while he smoked cigarettes, till he reached
the hospital. The house-physician was somewhat surprised by his
appearance.
"I have just read that paragraph," said Lefevre, handing him the paper.
"Oh yes, sir," said the house-physician. "The man was brought in last
night. Dr Dowling" [the resident assistant-physician] "saw him, and
thought it a case of ordinary trance, that could easily wait till you came,
as usual, to-morrow."
"Ah, well," said Lefevre, "let me see him."

Seen thus, the physician appeared a different person from the cheerful,
modest man of the Hyacinth Club. He had now put on the
responsibility