Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-07-12

take the specialist an
swered. I'm case like this it is i'm
possible to make mistake. / can only
confirm what your own doctor told you"
He turned away from the eyes of the
man to whom he had given the sentence
of death 1t was his duty to speak the
truth-the hardest and most cruel duty OF
every great specialist. 1t is easier to
watch men die.
We'll, we'll" said Crawshay, gaily. lone
mustn't grumbe: I've had a good deal
of fun in my time, and a good deal OF
trouble too-just enough TO give spice
to life-eh, doctor? 1 don't think much
of n placid existence. Too much like a
slug eh? Well. there, it's not your BUSH
ness to deliver opinions on how to get the
most out of life. You're chiefly concerned
with the end part of the show. Good
bye Sir William. I know you're busy
oh. by the by your check. and he walked
over to mahogany desk which stood
against the wall.
Please post it on to me-. said Sir
William Dale.
oh, no; you'd better take It, One
never knows what might happen. and
there might be some bubble about the
amount after Its better to give 1T to
YOU now. if il won't hurt your pro1es-
sional pride to take 1t.
He sat down at the desk wrote out a
check. crossed il. blotted it. and placed
it in an envelope. Then he rose to his
feet and handed the fee to Sir William
Dale.
"The envelope" he said. with smile,
hides the offense You great men are
touchy about such things. know. We'll
I've written lots of checks to doctors IN
my time. and hope this is the last. Al
any rate I've got something definite for
my money"
= The great specialist frowned. The tone
Of levity Jared on his feelings. But he
took the envelope and placed it in his
pocket -
THANK you he said. gently. I'm
sorry-very sorry
.Tush. man." interrupted Crawshay
sharply There's nothing to be sorry
about You're only the knife, after all.
And the hand that uses you is hand
that Stays and spares not. Goodbye. Sir
William: I'll follow out all your direc-
lions. though you confess they're worth
less
He held out his hand and the great doc
tor gripped ii in silence. Then Sir VIII
liam Dale left the room. thought over the
case for few minutes as he drove nome
in his brougham. and dismissed all
thought of Crawshay from his mind
Crawslay walked over to the window
md watched the carriage drive away
from the door.
Then he turned from the window and
walked toward the fireplace. The ROOM
Handsomely furnished with oak and ma
hogany. glowed cheerfully In the light of
the flames.
He threw himself into a deep, wide
easy chair and stared at the blazing oak
logs in the CRATE There was no sign or
emotion on his thin. clean-shaven face.
Sir William Dale had only confirmed the
words he had listened to more than
year ago He cared little for life. He
was forty years of age. and though MS
intellect had barely reached it's prime, he
knew that the life of his body was pass
ing the summit of it's strength
Yet there is purpose in every life IL
may be pleasure. ii may be ambition. II
NAV be love. it may be merely desire to
earn the bare necessities of existence. But
it is there. in every man or woman. and
Ii is that which makes II so hard TO die.
And IT was that which occupied the
mind of George Crawshay as he stared
into the fire and thought over his SEN
tence of death. The last ten years of his
life had been devoted to a single task.
Now he knew that he would have to die
and leave his task unfinished.
\ good man. forced to relinauish his