V. V.s Eyes | Page 5

homicides'!--and he calls it mild! Now, here, honor bright--"
"It's what they are--and more! You ask me if I know these people personally? I reply that in the truest sense I do know 'em, very well, for I've made a study of the type, d'you see?..."
Then the office door from the hall opened about a foot, a fat head in a gaunt bonnet protruded through the crevice, having rather a decapitated look, and a deep inflectionless voice said:
"Excuse me introodin', Doctor, I'm sure, but your sick here raskin' me kin they see you soon."
"In five minutes precisely ..."
Morning sunshine streamed through the unwashen windows. V. Vivian had risen in the ardor of his argument. Quite a different-looking man from the Commissioner he was observed to be, tall where the Commissioner was thick, eager where the Commissioner was easy-going. Rather a long face he had, sensitive about the mouth, lucid about the gaze, and hair of a tan shade which waved a little, no matter how crisply cut. The faded gray suit he wore contrasted unfavorably with his friend's new brown; on the other hand, his movements were not devoid of a certain lank grace such as the gods have denied to rotundity.
Yet when he stepped out from his quaint desk, it was suddenly to be seen that the young man limped, on his left foot: that this limp was not accidental or temporary.... A lame doctor: so it was with him. And yet the fire with which he spoke was surely not born of the pharmacopoeia....
"Take it in the large--that's all I ask! Look at your job from a social standpoint. I tell you, it's just these Huns, these yellow-rich Heths and Magees and Old Dominion Pickle people who're rotting the heart out of this fine old town. And the root of the whole trouble's in their debased personal ideals, don't you see? 'Get on' at all costs, that's the motto: slapping their money in their neighbors' faces and shouting, 'Here's what counts!'--spreading their degraded standards by example through the community--yellow materialism gone mad.... Oh, I know!--I know it isn't your slave-driving captains only. It's mainly the women pushing from behind--fat horse-leeches' daughters always screaming 'more, more'--when there's--"
"Leeches! Peaches, you mean! You ought to see--"
"When there's no way to get any more but to bleed it out of--Corinne Garland here!--which is duly done. Brutal egoism, that's the philosophy--"
"Police!" cried O'Neill, puffing good-humoredly. "Why, V.V.!--They're personally some of the best people in town! If you knew 'em you'd be the first to say so. Take the Heths now, just to show you--"
"Huns all! I do know them, I say, through to their little prehensile souls! You don't seem to get me.... Why, I feel sorry for them, Sam! I wouldn't mind much what they did if they were only happy with it! But, good heavens!... D'you know what this age needs, my boy? A voice crying in the wilderness...."
"H'm! Don't know about that. You'll find, where it's a matter touching their pockets, people don't listen to voices much, either in--"
"They listened to John the Baptist!"
"What?" said Sam, rather disliking these constant references to the ancient days.
"I say they listened to John the Baptist!" cried tall Dr. Vivian, slapping one impetuous hand into the other. "Yes, and came running and sweating to the desert, just to get a tongue-lashing from him--the very same old scribes and Pharisees that drive motor-cars down Washington Street to-day! And they'd run to him to-day, never fear! I tell you, there's a voice the heart is never deaf to! And that's what this age needs, Sam,--since you ask me,--a big, fierce prophet on the outskirts of the city; a great, grim, uncompromising hater, with a tongue that bites like a blacksnake whip. By George, they'd listen to him! He couldn't hide where your yellow Huns wouldn't come to him on their knees!"
"Let him do it, then,--go's far as he likes. Only don't ask me ..."
O'Neill had not failed to perceive how the talk wandered from the Labor Commission. Now, drawing on his gloves, he was struck by a humorous thought.
"You're looking for work, for trouble, you say. Why don't you sign on this John the Baptist job yourself?"
Oddly, the small gibe seemed to disconcert the orator. His cheek acquired a pinkness; unexpectedly, too, he seemed to lose the thread of his headlong thesis. However, he brandished his arms, gazing hard.
"That's as it may be! As it may be, my dear fellow! All I ... Ah," he said hurriedly, turning. "One minute.... There's some one knocking...."
And he went striding off with his unequal step toward his visitors' door--not his sick's--though it did seem that "Come in" would really have answered just as well as usual....
The stoutish Commissioner glanced after him, dimly surprised.
Boyhood friends these two, their ways had long