The Adventures of Dick Maitland | Page 6

the evening of the day upon which Mrs Maitland, having
fulfilled the formalities required of her by Graham, had received from
him a cheque for the sum of four hundred and eighty-seven pounds,
seventeen shillings, and eightpence, which, apart from the house in
which she lived, represented all that remained to her of the very
comfortable fortune left to her by her late husband. Dick had escorted
his mother up to town, and, upon the conclusion of the transaction, had
taken her back to The Cedars; after which he had made the best of his
way to 19 Paradise Street; for the moment had now arrived when he
must come to an understanding with his friend Dr Julian Humphreys,
and consult with him respecting the future. Ten o'clock had struck a
few minutes ago, a belated patient had been attended to and dismissed,
the surgery had been closed by the simple process of drawing down the
blind and locking the outer door, and now the two friends were sitting
opposite each other in that same drug-scented apartment, conversing
earnestly together, as Humphreys pulled contemplatively, yet
somewhat vexedly, at a brier pipe which had seen so much service that
it was now charred down to about half its original size.
"The fact is," remarked Dick, in continuance of their conversation,
"that there is no other course open to me; for I am resolved that I will

not touch a farthing of the money that your friend Graham has so
cleverly rescued from the ruins of Cuthbertson's estate; every stiver of
it will be required for the maintenance of the poor Mater while I am
away. And I must go away, because, as you yourself have admitted,
there is no employment or occupation of any kind here at home to
which, in my present condition of unpreparedness, I could turn my
hand with any hope of earning a sufficient income to maintain her and
myself, though ever so modestly; even if posts were to be had for the
asking, which--in this country, at all events--they are not. You know
that to be the plain, unvarnished truth, do you not?"
"Yes," Humphreys answered unhesitatingly, "it is true--unfortunately."
"Very well, then," Dick resumed; "that being the case, the next question
is: Where am I to go, and what am I to do, in order to earn enough
money to maintain myself and my mother in the meantime, and
eventually to restore her to that position of security of which she was
robbed by that rascal Cuthbertson?"
"De mortuis nil nisi bonum!" reproved Humphreys gravely. "The poor
chap has gone to answer for his sins, whatever they may have been, and
there is an end of him, so far as you are concerned. To rail at him now,
and speak of him disparagingly, will not hurt him, or do you any good,
Dick, my friend, so do not unnecessarily bespatter his memory. This by
the way. And now to return to our muttons. The problem that you
propound is indeed a hard one to solve; to many it would probably
appear an impossibility. But, although I am by no means an old man, I
have been long enough in this world to have recognised that what many
people deem impossibilities are nothing of the sort, if only one has the
grit to face and tackle them. It is grit, my boy, that makes
impossibilities possible, and I believe you possess that quality in
sufficient measure to enable you to accomplish great things. The
question is: What is the particular great thing which will meet your case?
What is the work which you are best fitted to do? You are already very
well up in the profession which you have chosen. There is many a man
in successful practice to-day who knows less about it than you do; but,
unfortunately, you are not yet `qualified', therefore you cannot set up

for yourself, even if you could afford the time to create a
practice--which you cannot. And as to becoming an unqualified
assistant, that of course is out of the question; the pay is altogether too
poor to justify the entertainment of that idea. But there are countries
where the restrictions are not nearly so great as they are in England;
and there are others--beyond the pale of civilisation--where no
restrictions at all exist, and where a clever man, with plenty of grit to
back him up, might perhaps do remarkably well. Still, to penetrate to
such countries a man must take his life in his hands, and, even then, all
his courage may prove insufficient to save him from an unspeakable,
horrible death. Now, what can you do besides doctoring?"
"Nothing that will help me in my present strait," answered Maitland. "I
can sail a boat, swim, ride,