The Doctor’s Dilemma

will punish him. Sir Patrick Oh, yes: It’ll punish him. It’ll punish not only him but everybody connected with him, innocent and guilty alike. It’ll throw his board and lodging on our rates and taxes for a couple of years, and then turn him loose on us a more dangerous blackguard than ever. It’ll put the girl in prison and ruin her: It’ll lay his wife’s life waste. You may put the criminal law out of your head once for all: it’s only fit for fools and savages. Louis Would you mind turning your face a little more this way, Sir Patrick. Sir Patrick turns indignantly and glares at him. Oh, that’s too much. Sir Patrick Put down your foolish pencil, man; and think of your position. You can defy the laws made by men; but there are other laws to reckon with. Do you know that you’re going to die? Louis We’re all going to die, aren’t we? Walpole We’re not all going to die in six months. Louis How do you know? This for B.B. is the last straw. He completely loses his temper and begins to walk excitedly about. B.B. Upon my soul, I will not stand this. It is in questionable taste under any circumstances or in any company to harp on the subject of death; but it is a dastardly advantage to take of a medical man. Thundering at Dubedat. I will not allow it, do you hear? Louis Well, I didn’t begin it: you chaps did. It’s always the way with the inartistic professions: when they’re beaten in argument they fall back on intimidation. I never knew a lawyer who didn’t threaten to put me in prison sooner or later. I never knew a parson who didn’t threaten me with damnation. And now you threaten me with death. With all your talk you’ve only one real trump in your hand, and that’s Intimidation. Well, I’m not a coward; so it’s no use with me. B.B. Advancing upon him. I’ll tell you what you are, sir. You’re a scoundrel. Louis Oh, I don’t mind you calling me a scoundrel a bit. It’s only a word: a word that you don’t know the meaning of. What is a scoundrel? B.B. You are a scoundrel, sir. Louis Just so. What is a scoundrel? I am. What am I? A scoundrel. It’s just arguing in a circle. And you imagine you’re a man of science! B.B. I⁠—I⁠—I⁠—I have a good mind to take you by the scruff of your neck, you infamous rascal, and give you a sound thrashing. Louis I wish you would. You’d pay me something handsome to keep it out of court afterwards. B.B., baffled, flings away from him with a snort. Have you any more civilities to address to me in my own house? I should like to get them over before my wife comes back. He resumes his sketching. Ridgeon My mind’s made up. When the law breaks down, honest men must find a remedy for themselves. I will not lift a finger to save this reptile. B.B. That is the word I was trying to remember. Reptile. Walpole I can’t help rather liking you, Dubedat. But you certainly are a thoroughgoing specimen. Sir Patrick You know our opinion of you now, at all events. Louis Patiently putting down his pencil. Look here. All this is no good. You don’t understand. You imagine that I’m simply an ordinary criminal. Walpole Not an ordinary one, Dubedat. Do yourself justice. Louis Well you’re on the wrong tack altogether. I’m not a criminal. All your moralizings have no value for me. I don’t believe in morality. I’m a disciple of Bernard Shaw. Sir Patrick Puzzled. Eh? B.B. Waving his hand as if the subject was now disposed of. That’s enough, I wish to hear no more. Louis Of course I haven’t the ridiculous vanity to set up to be exactly a Superman; but still, it’s an ideal that I strive towards just as any other man strives towards his ideal. B.B. Intolerant. Don’t trouble to explain. I now understand you perfectly. Say no more, please. When a man pretends to discuss science, morals, and religion, and then avows himself a follower of a notorious and avowed anti-vaccinationist, there is nothing more to be said. Suddenly putting in an effusive saving clause in parenthesis to Ridgeon. Not, my dear Ridgeon, that I believe in vaccination in the popular sense any more than you do: I needn’t tell you that. But there are things that place a man socially; and anti-vaccination is one of them. He resumes his seat on the dais. Sir Patrick Bernard Shaw? I never heard of him. He’s a Methodist preacher, I suppose. Louis Scandalized. No, no. He’s the most advanced man now living: he isn’t anything. Sir Patrick I assure you, young man, my father learnt the doctrine of deliverance from sin from John Wesley’s own lips before you or Mr. Shaw were born. It used to be very popular as an excuse for putting sand in sugar and water in milk. You’re a sound Methodist, my lad; only you don’t know it. Louis Seriously annoyed for the first time. It’s an intellectual insult. I don’t believe there’s such a thing as sin. Sir Patrick Well, sir, there are people who don’t believe there’s such a thing as disease either. They call themselves Christian Scientists, I believe. They’ll just suit your complaint. We can do nothing for you. He rises. Good afternoon to you. Louis Running to him piteously. Oh don’t get up, Sir Patrick. Don’t go. Please don’t. I didn’t mean to shock you, on my word. Do sit down again. Give me another chance. Two minutes more: that’s all I ask. Sir Patrick Surprised by this sign of grace, and a little touched. Well⁠—He sits down. Louis Gratefully. Thanks awfully. Sir Patrick Continuing. I don’t mind giving you two minutes more. But don’t address yourself to me; for I’ve retired from practice;