The Missing Link | Page 3

his voice was
respectful and very persuasive, but by no means subservient. Nickie's
voice was his most valuable possession; it had a note so winning, so
appealing, that it was only with strong effort that ordinary people could
resist it.
"No," said the woman, "we ain't got any o' them complaints."
"Headache, earache, toothache, lumbago, Bright's disease?" said Nickie,
suggestively.
"No." The woman shook her head. "We ain't got nothin' in the 'ouse but
rhoomertism in me ole man's back. He's bin laid up three weeks with
it."
"Dr. Crips's Rheumatic Balm!" exclaimed Nickie, with decision,
restoring the first bottle to the bag, and producing another of exactly
the same mixture. "Cures rheumatism in two hours. Gives instant relief
in cases of neuralgia and sciatica. A little to be rubbed on the affected
parts night and morning."
The woman took the bottle, examined it closely, shook it up, and said,
"It looks good."
"It's invaluable, madam," replied Nickie, with quiet conviction. "No
family should be without it. Two shillings, if you please."
The woman took a bottle, and when leaving, Nickie the Kid turned and
said, "I shall be back this way in a week, and shall do myself the
honour of calling on you for a testimonial, if I may?"
At the next farm-house Nickie had a man to deal with. The man began

by wanting to throw Dr. Crips over the fence, and ended by buying a
bottle of his Infallible Hair Restorer, and paying him half-a-crown for
professional advice in the case of a brown cow afflicted with mumps.
Nickie the Kid had put in the busiest day of his varied career, and here
he rested from his labours. With six and six in his pocket he could
afford luxuries. That night he slept in a bed at the Harrow Hotel, and
next morning breakfasted on grilled bacon and boiled eggs. Before
leaving, he sold the publican two bottles of the world-famous Healing
Mixture as a pick-me-up.
On the second day the doctor set out to cover as much ground as
possible. He was astute enough to recognise the wisdom of moving on
before his customers had time to compare notes. Before noon, he sold
six bottles of the Healing Mixture for influenza, two bottles of the
Rheumatic Balm, and one bottle of the same as a certain cure for a
peculiar disorder in pigs.
Nickie was going along the main road, heading north, branching off to
the farm-houses by the way to sell his cure-all. He sold one guileless
housewife a bottle, assuring her that it would convert brass spoons into
real silver. A little mercury in a rag helped this trifling deception. On
the third day Nickie had to buy some gingernuts to make a fresh supply
of the Healing Mixture, and bottles were running short. He saw fortune
staring him in the face.
It was about eleven, and Mr. Crips was trudging contentedly along, the
road, swinging his bag and singing his tender lay, at peace with the
world, and buoyed with great hopes, when a trap drove up and a voice
out of the accompanying dust said:--
"That's 'im. That's the bloke!" A man jumped down and advanced to
Nickie, and laid hands on him.
"You're that doctor bloke what's selling the Rheumatic Balm, ain't
yeh?" he asked.
Nickie said nothing. Retribution had overtaken him. He knew that. His

fair dreams fell from him, he sighed deeply, and philosophically, as
was his wont, abandoned himself to the inevitable.
There were two young men in the trap. They hoisted Nickie to the seat
behind, and drove on. No explanation was offered, and Mr Crips
expected none. They would come, he imagined, along with the familiar
penalties. One of the young men did remark, with cheerful enthusiasm:
"You're in fer it all right, blokie," but Nickie the Kid only sighed.
Crips recognised the farm-house they drove to as that of the farmer
with rheumatism in the back, his first customer. One young man ran in
with the news, and presently reappeared in company with a large,
elderly, energetic man, who was crying, excitedly: "Where is he? Bring
him to me!"
This large man dashed at Nickie the Kid, and fell on him bodily. He
was followed by the housewife who purchased the Rheumatic Balm,
and she also fell upon Nickie, who put up a short prayer. But to the
doctor's immense surprise he found presently that he was not being
assaulted, but hugged, that it was not curses, but blessings the old
couple were showering upon his head.
"Lor love yeh, I'll never forget yeh fer this," cried the farmer.
"Come inside an' have a bit to eat," exclaimed his wife.
The pair literally dragged Nickie into the house and dumped him down
at a loaded table.