The Doctor’s Dilemma

tell me about that. Mrs. Dubedat You can cure him, if only you will. It is true that you can, isn’t it? In great distress. Oh, tell me, please. Ridgeon Warningly. You are going to be quiet and self-possessed, aren’t you? Mrs. Dubedat Yes. I beg your pardon. I know I shouldn’t⁠—Giving way again. Oh, please, say that you can; and then I shall be all right. Ridgeon Huffily. I am not a curemonger: if you want cures, you must go to the people who sell them. Recovering himself, ashamed of the tone of his own voice. But I have at the hospital ten tuberculous patients whose lives I believe I can save. Mrs. Dubedat Thank God! Ridgeon Wait a moment. Try to think of those ten patients as ten shipwrecked men on a raft⁠—a raft that is barely large enough to save them⁠—that will not support one more. Another head bobs up through the waves at the side. Another man begs to be taken aboard. He implores the captain of the raft to save him. But the captain can only do that by pushing one of his ten off the raft and drowning him to make room for the newcomer. That is what you are asking me to do. Mrs. Dubedat But how can that be? I don’t understand. Surely⁠— Ridgeon You must take my word for it that it is so. My laboratory, my staff, and myself are working at full pressure. We are doing our utmost. The treatment is a new one. It takes time, means, and skill; and there is not enough for another case. Our ten cases are already chosen cases. Do you understand what I mean by chosen? Mrs. Dubedat Chosen. No: I can’t understand. Ridgeon Sternly. You must understand. You’ve got to understand and to face it. In every single one of those ten cases I have had to consider, not only whether the man could be saved, but whether he was worth saving. There were fifty cases to choose from; and forty had to be condemned to death. Some of the forty had young wives and helpless children. If the hardness of their cases could have saved them they would have been saved ten times over. I’ve no doubt your case is a hard one: I can see the tears in your eyes she hastily wipes her eyes: I know that you have a torrent of entreaties ready for me the moment I stop speaking; but it’s no use. You must go to another doctor. Mrs. Dubedat But can you give me the name of another doctor who understands your secret? Ridgeon I have no secret: I am not a quack. Mrs. Dubedat I beg your pardon: I didn’t mean to say anything wrong. I don’t understand how to speak to you. Oh, pray don’t be offended. Ridgeon Again a little ashamed. There! there! never mind. He relaxes and sits down. After all, I’m talking nonsense: I daresay I am a quack, a quack with a qualification. But my discovery is not patented. Mrs. Dubedat Then can any doctor cure my husband? Oh, why don’t they do it? I have tried so many: I have spent so much. If only you would give me the name of another doctor. Ridgeon Every man in this street is a doctor. But outside myself and the handful of men I am training at St. Anne’s, there is nobody as yet who has mastered the opsonin treatment. And we are full up! I’m sorry; but that is all I can say. Rising. Good morning. Mrs. Dubedat Suddenly and desperately taking some drawings from her portfolio. Doctor: look at these. You understand drawings: you have good ones in your waiting-room. Look at them. They are his work. Ridgeon It’s no use my looking. He looks, all the same. Hallo! He takes one to the window and studies it. Yes: this is the real thing. Yes, yes. He looks at another and returns to her. These are very clever. They’re unfinished, aren’t they? Mrs. Dubedat He gets tired so soon. But you see, don’t you, what a genius he is? You see that he is worth saving. Oh, doctor, I married him just to help him to begin: I had money enough to tide him over the hard years at the beginning⁠—to enable him to follow his inspiration until his genius was recognized. And I was useful to him as a model: his drawings of me sold quite quickly. Ridgeon Have you got one? Mrs. Dubedat Producing another. Only this one. It was the first. Ridgeon Devouring it with his eyes. That’s a wonderful drawing. Why is it called Jennifer? Mrs. Dubedat My name is Jennifer. Ridgeon A strange name. Mrs. Dubedat Not in Cornwall. I am Cornish. It’s only what you call Guinevere. Ridgeon Repeating the names with a certain pleasure in them. Guinevere. Jennifer. Looking again at the drawing. Yes: it’s really a wonderful drawing. Excuse me; but may I ask is it for sale? I’ll buy it. Mrs. Dubedat Oh, take it. It’s my own: he gave it to me. Take it. Take them all. Take everything; ask anything; but save him. You can: you will: you must. Redpenny Entering with every sign of alarm. They’ve just telephoned from the hospital that you’re to come instantly⁠—a patient on the point of death. The carriage is waiting. Ridgeon Intolerantly. Oh, nonsense: get out. Greatly annoyed. What do you mean by interrupting me like this? Redpenny But⁠— Ridgeon Chut! can’t you see I’m engaged? Be off. Redpenny, bewildered, vanishes. Mrs. Dubedat Rising. Doctor: one instant only before you go⁠— Ridgeon Sit down. It’s nothing. Mrs. Dubedat But the patient. He said he was dying. Ridgeon Oh, he’s dead by this time. Never mind. Sit down. Mrs. Dubedat Sitting down and breaking down. Oh, you none of you care. You see people die every day. Ridgeon Petting her. Nonsense! it’s nothing: I told him to come in and say that. I thought I should want to get rid of you.