Democratic Sentinel, Volume 5, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 September 1881 — A CLEVER DOCTOR. [ARTICLE]

A CLEVER DOCTOR.

About twenty years ago the Hon. and Rev. Edward Lambert, a clergyman of the Church of England, found that his health was growing infirm, a mental and physical languor seeming to take possession of him ; that English melancholy which comes, no one knows why 01 wherefore, and he could not shake it off. Young, rich, handsome, eloquent, sure of preferment in the church—what was the matter with the Hon. and Rev. Edward Lambert ? He did what all Englishmen do when other remedies fail—he crossed the channel. He thought he could seek the rays of the sun, that luminary so scarce in England. Perhaps it was that he needed. So one tine day he sailed for France, and found himself at Rouen, where lie stayed for some days, taking every morning a walk around the cathedral, carrying a volume of Dante under his arm. One afternoon he walked up the Mont St. Catherine, and, seating himself on the grass, gravely devoted himself to the divine comedy. He had scarcely lost himself in Dante’s stately measure, when a stranger approached and with the most perfect courtesy addressed him, asking if he were an Englishman, and, if so, if he would permit a few minutes’ conversation. “ I wish to perfect myself in your language,” said the stranger,smiling, “and I always seize every opportunity to talk to an Englishman.” “You already speak the language fluently,” said Mr. Lambert, politely; “ sit down, Monsieur.” Resting on the turf, with a glorious view before them, the two young men soon found themselves talking glibly of the news of the day, of Dante, of religion, politics and the weather. € The Frenchman was very agreeable, well educated, up to the times on all points ; he immediately told Mr. Lambert that he was a doctor and practicing his profession at Rouen.

It was natural that the young clergyman should speak to him of his own case, which he did freely, asking the doctor’s advice. The doctor became extremely interested, and, upon examining Mr. Lambert’s tongue and pulse, gave him a prescription. They walked together to Rouen, and Mr. Lambert then noticed that the doctor had a beautiful white dog, a pointer, which gamboled around his master’s heels. They separated as they reached the oity, the doctor to go and see his patients, the clergyman to seek an apothecary, where he got his prescription prepared. The next morning the Honorable and Reverend Mr. Lambert was better. The doctor’s prescription had made him sleep. It had given him strength, he felt an appetite for breakfast. Months of treatment in London at the hands of the best physicians had not done this for him. He wished to thank and remunerate the doctor, when he remembered that he did not know his name. Instinct told him, however, that he might meet him again on the Mont St. Catherine. So with renewed hope, health, energy he walked again to the top of the hill. In five minutes he was joined by the French doctor and his dog, who came bounding along with pointer nose in the grass. The two. men greeted each other with smiles, and shook hands cordially. “You have saved my life, doctor,” said Mr. Lambert, with unusual enthusiasm. “Not at all, my dear friend,” said the doctor; “I only gave you a good tonic, which also made you sleep.. I found out (what none of my English brothers in medicine seem to nave found out) that you have nothing the matter with you! Your system needs a little jogging, that is all. Railroad travel, my dear friend, will soon set you up. Now, I dare say, you have been leading a Very easy and sedentary life ; now, haven’t you ? ” “It is true, I have.” '‘Take my advice, travel, ride day and night; take ,no medicine, excepting these sirups, which I will give you; seek adventure, lead a more varied existenoe, and, my friend—you are all right! ” Now came the delicate question of money, and the Englishman felt for the proverbial guinea. He tendered it to the French doctor, who laughingly pushed it away, with a very soft, well-formed, white hand. “Never—never,” said he; “for so slight a service, permit me to make my advice a return for ‘ a lesson in English conversation!’ ”

It was gracefully done, and the embarrassed Englishman put his gold back into his pocket “Doctor,” said he, in a low voice, hesitatingly, “ I am an Englishman, and I hate to be under an obligation ; you have lifted a load off my heart which has hung there for six months ; you have made a new man of me. Now allow me to be of some service to you. I leave here by rail at 1 o’clock to-morrow morning for .Paris ; until then 1 am at your service—and forever after. Can I do anything for you ?” The doctor reflected a moment, and looked at his dog. “ I don’t know, indeed ; and yet I do happen to think of one thing. You might save me a journey to Paris, which, with my engagements, is jnst now inconvenient. But it is asking too much, perhaps. ” “What—how—too much?” said the clergyman. “ Well, I have a number of sick people under my charge whom I treat for disease of the brain. One of these is a very rich woman who is slightly deranged. I hoped to have cured her. Unhappily she has determined to return to Paris, and I have no authority to detain her. I perceive that she will fret until this caprice is gratified. I must go with her to place her in charge of her friends, and I have been putting oft from day to day, because I cannot leave my other patients, the duty of taking her home. Now, if you would escort her it would be a real service,” said the doctor. “ My dear sir, a crazy young woman, at 1 o’clock at night, and I a clergyman of the Church of England,” said Mr. Lambert, forgetting his late gratitude. “ Oh, she ia 46, my dear sir f and her

mania is a very quiet one. She looks and acts like a sheep, poor woman, and she will scarcely speak to a stranger. I do not know that she will go with you. The hour is rather early—l in the morning—but still I might ask her, and it will be a real favor to me.” “ Bring her along, doctor,” «aid the clergyman, ashamed of his reluctance ; “bring her along—a sheep and fortysix; I will take care of your patient to Paris!” Talking in this way they reached the gates of the city. Before separating, the doctor gave his card to Mr. Lambert. “Au revoir,’’ said he, “and perhaps adieu , my dear sir. Let me hear from you from time to time; and I hope, if we never meet again, that you will retain, as I shall do, an agreeable recollection of our acquaintance. I may not see you again, as my friend may not be willing to go with you— adieu!" Mr. Lambert glanced at the doctor’s card, feeling anew the embarrassment.of the possible night journey with an in sane woman, and regretting his promise in spite of his gratitude. He read on the card—- “ Dr. de La Belle, Rue Antoine; No. 11.” Mr. Lambert walked through the Rue Antoine angl stopped at No. 11. It was a large, handsome house, with the announcement in black letters- - on a brass plate, Docteur de La Belie. On arriving at his hotel he asked the landlord if he knew of Dr. de La Belle. “I believe, sir,” said the man, civilly, “that he is the best physician in Rouen. ” At 1 o’clock in the morning Mr. Lambert waited with some anxiety in the depot the arrival of the train. Dr. de La Belle had not arrived. The English clergymap rubbed his hands with great satisfaction—for he did not care for this particular responsibility—when some one touched him lightly on the shoulder.

It was the doctor ! Seated on a bench was a lady in black, with her veil tightly drawn over her face. “ I have taken a coupe,” said the doctor, “so you will not be incommoded by other travelers. Here is mademoiselle’s purse, ticket and little traveling sachel; perhaps she will need something. Have the kindness to show the ticket to the conducter. I have telegraphed to Paris to her friends, who will meet her at the station. She is quiet as a dove. Should you find her agitated, give her a drop of this essence on sugar ; here is the bottle. Monsieur Lambert, mademoiselle ! ” He then helped along the invalid lady and put her in the corner of the coupe. He then, after arranging her with great kindness, stepped out, held Mr. Lambert by the hands and talked with French effusion, as the officials hustled passengers in and out. “ I trust you will have no trouble, adieu,” said he, giving a final word of kindness to his fair patient and arranging her footstool. “Oh, no! I dare say not,” said Mr. Lambert, bowing to the lady and taking his seat by her side. “But what a powerful odor there is in the coupe—will it not disturb the lady ? ” “ Oh, no ! I think not,” said Dr. de La Belle ; “I broke a bottle of cologne, as I was helping her in. It will all disappear in a few moments. ” The train departed; and Mr. Lambert, who felt exceedingly wide awake, and who found Dr. de La Belle’s cologne very strong, tried to draw his fair friend into a conversation. She was separated from him by a high basket of flowers, the doctor’s last attention. The poor insane woman would not answer a word, and from her immovable calm Mr. Lambert concluded that she was asleep. When they arrived at Paris he determined that she should speak. “ Mademoiselle,” said he, in a loud voice, “ao awake and listen to me ; I must leave you for a moment to go and find your friends,” He sought a long time, but could not find anybody who wanted a lady from Rouen.

He came back to the carriage very discontentedly, when, to his intense astonishment, he found a crowd around the compartment where the lady still sat. He went forward to see what was the cause of the excitement. “Are you the man who traveled from Rouen in this coupe ?” said a policeman. “Yes.” “ Do .you know that this lady is dead f You have poisoned lier with prussic acid ! She lias been dead four hours ! ” and the populace groaned. The clergyman was speechless with horror. He tried to clear himself with all the earnestness of an innocent man ; but his story was found a most improbable one. The police found on him the purse of the poor woman, and a bottle containing prussic acid ! It was the little bottle which Dr. de La Belle had forced upon him in the train. Mr. Lambert, stunned, half dead, allowed himself to be carried to prison without resistance—he was past that. A day later he said : “ Take me to Rouen ; I will unmask the villain; he can never face me !” Two sergeants de ville, with other employes of the police in plain clothes, attended this dangerous criminal to Rouen in the railway, and drove to the house of Dr. de La Belle. Mr. Lambert was sure that at the sight of his face the assassin doctor would confess all. Dr. de La Belle was engaged at the moment, and kept them some time waiting. When at last the police began to be troubled, the head sergeant bade them to becalm. “The house is guarded,” said he; “he cannot escape.” Presently there entered a calm, elderly gentleman, with spectacles, which he removed as he looked at them.

“ I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting,” said he, “ but did you want me ? lam Dr. de La Belle. ” Mr. Lambert trembled from head to foot. An abyss opened before him, of which he could not see the bottom. This was not at all the man whom he had met on Mont St. Catherine. “ You are not Dr. de La Belle at all!” said the unhappy man. “I think that I can prove that I am,” said the suave old doctor, smiling. Alas! everything was against him. The English clergyman had fallen iDto the most terrible snare, laid by the most accomplished villain. They returned to Paris. “ I wish I could meet him again with his white dog,’’said Mr. Lambert, throwing his hands in the air. “ White dog, did you say ?” asked the sergeant de ville. Some weeks passed* and police became convinced that Mr. Lambert was innocent, but they were waiting for the real villain. Mr. Lambert wes taken, blindfolded and in the night, to a house, he knew not in what street, where he, ho vever, a;as well lodged, and where he was allowed to read and to write, but was strictly watched. Shortly after his new incarceration a valet arrived with his clothes, and asked him respectfully to make his toilette. A. sergeant escorted him to a closed carriage, and drove toward the Champs Elysees. “Look at every one who passes,” says he. Mr. Lambert looked, but saw nothing. The next day the sergeant, elegantly dressed, came again in an open carriage, and by the side of the coachman sat a white pointer dog. Mr. Lambert turned pale. “ You have seen that' dog before'?” said the sergeant. “ It is his dog,” said Mr. Lambert. “Keep calm, and look about you,” paid the policeman,

But they looked in vain. They saw no master for the dog. “ On the night that crime was committed this dog was found in Rouen, without a master,” said the sergeant de ville. Later, the prisoner was requested to make an evening toilette, and was escorted to a grand ball in a magnificent house in one of the best parts of Paris. “ Yon are serving the ends of justice,” said the sergeant to him. “Be patient and observe the guests.” He was presented to the lady of the house, who received him very graciously, and who introduced him to her daughter. He talked with her and looked at the guests, but saw nothing. Another week passed. He went to another ball in the same company. His young host, Monsieur de F., seated himself beside him, and drew carelessly before them the curtains of a large window, which filled half the room. It was not long before Mr. Lambert heard the well-known voice bf the sergeant of police (who in the most irreproachable of black coats and white ties looked like a Conde or a Montmorenci) talking to a gentleman near him, of hunting. “It is a long lime since I have followed the hounds,” answered the gentleman.

Mr. Lambert darted from his seat, “Itishe ! ” said he. “It is Dr. de La Belle.” “Be silent,” said Monsieur de F., “be silent,” and he held him in his seat by main force. In a moment they were rejoinfed by the sergeant de ville. “ I have heard him I'*1 '* It is his voice 1” said Mr. Lambert, trembling all over. v‘ Perhaps we are still wrong,” said that imperturbable individual. “Stay here without moving. I will draw the curtain. Look at every one who enters with a lady on his arm. When the suspected passes, press my arm without a word. ” “ Is it Monsieur de Bocage ?” asked the host in a low voice of the officer. “ Probably,” said the policeman ; “he was the lover of the unfortunate Blanche Villiers.” At this moment poor Lambert, peeping from behind the curtain, saw the well-known smiling face and jaunty figure of the doctor of Rouen pass with a young lady on his arm. He gripped the arm of the officer. “It is he,” said he, choking. The sergeant de ville drew the curtain quickly. “The chain is complete,” said he; “we only wait for the dog. Mr. Lambert, your imprisonment will be short. One’visit more, and you ar* free!” The next day a close carriage, with the white pointer tied under the seat, called for Mr. Lambert. “I shall conduct you to his door, bul you must enter alone,” said the friendly sergeant. * * You are not afraid ?” ‘ ‘ Afraid J” said the Englishman. ** I only desire to kill him.” “ No, no personal violence, please. You would spoil a very pretty job,” said the officer. drive to the house of M. de Bocage, Avenue Josephine.” When Mr. Lambert, pale as death, rang the bell of the inner door, M. de Bocage, a Parisian swell, just putting on his gloves, opened it himself. • He started back, horrified, but soon composed himself. “ You wish to see me, sir ?” said he.

“ Yes, you wretched murderer !” said the Hon. and Rev. Lambert, “ I do wish to see you !” M. de Bocage retreated several steps. “ You are mad,” said he. “I have come to unmask you, villain !” “ You are deceived, my brave gentleman,” said M. de Bocage, and, reaching behind him, he caught up a pistol and discharged it full in the face of the Englishman. At the noise and the fall of the clergyman, who was stunned and blinded for a moment, the two sergeants and several policemen entered the room, accompanied by a white pointer, who leaped up and caressed Monsieur de Bocage. “ Down, Thanor, down!” said ,the murderer, forgetting himself. “The chain is complete,” said the sergeant joyfully. “Monsieur de Bocage, alias Dr. deLa Belle, you stand charged with the murder of Mademoiselle Blanche Yilliers, in a coupe of the railway, which left Rouen at 1 o’clock at night on the 13th inst., a crime which you sought to affix to this gentleman. (Throw a pitcher of water in his face ; the pistol ball was drawn this morning, while Monsieur de Bocage took his chocolate—he is not hurt.)” So saying, the sergeant revived the Englishfhan, and took Monsieur de Bocage from his luxurious chamber toward twenty years of the galleys. The wretch looked back. “Itlvas you, Thanor, after all,” said he, caressing the white pointer. “Yes,” said the sergeant, encouragingly; “had you but remembered to give the poor thing a pill of strychnine ! ” The Hon. and Rev. Mr. Lambert returned home much better. He had certainly taken the advice of this unknown medical adviser, and had varied his usual life considerably. He never traveled in a coupe at night again with veiled ladies, nor did he ever get over the horror of having ridden from Rouen to Parih with a corpse. He had the curiosity to take the doctor’s prescription to an apothecary in London, who analyzed it. “ A powerful stimulant, sir,” said he ; “we should not recommend you to use it very frequently. Still, ih extreme cases of depression, it might be well.” Mr. Lambert never lost his admiration of the French police. They were, he thought, a very accomplished set of actors.