ghost. If G. de
Boursy-Williams, of all those lying capitals, were a member of the London
Pharmaceutical Society and properly-qualified dentist, which perhaps might
be the case, he certainly possessed no other claim upon the confidence of
his fellow-creatures, sick or well. Yet even before the Dop Doctor
brought his great unhealed sorrow and his quenchless thirst to
Gueldersdorp, the smug, plump, grey-haired, pink-faced, neatly-dressed
little humbug possessed an enviable practice.

If you got well, he rubbed his hands and chuckled over you; if you died,
he bleated about the Will of Providence, and his daughters sent flowery,
home-made wreaths to place upon your grave, and it all went down, adding
to the python-length of the bill for medical attendance.

This world is thick with De Boursy-Williamses, throwing in bromides with a
liberal hand, ungrudging of strychnine, happily at home with quinine and
cathartics, ready at a case of simple rubeola; hideously, secretly,
helplessly perplexed between the false diphtheria and the true; treating
internal cancer and fibrous tumours as digestive derangements for happy,
profitable years, until the specialist comes by, and dissipates with a
brief examination and with half a dozen trenchant words the victim's faith
in the quack.

Three years before, when the Dop Doctor, coming up from Kimberley by
transport-waggon, had stumbled in upon Gueldersdorp, the verdict of a
specialist consulted by one of his patients, much lacking in the desirable
article of faith, had given De Boursy-Williams's self-confidence a
considerable shock.

Does it matter how De Boursy, much reduced in bulk by a considerable
leakage of conceit, came across the Dop Doctor? In a drink-saloon, in a
music-hall, in a gaming-house or an opium-den, at any other of the places
of recreation where, after consulting and visiting hours, that exemplary
father and serious-minded Established Churchman, was to be found? It is
enough that the bargain was proposed and accepted. Four sovereigns a week
secured to De Boursy-Williams the stored and applied knowledge, the wide
experience, and the unerring diagnosis of the rising young London
practitioner, who had had a brilliant career before him when a Hand had
reached forth from the clouds to topple down the castle of his labours and
his hopes. For Owen Saxham the money would purchase forgetfulness. You can
buy a great deal of his kind of forgetfulness with four pounds, and drink
w