Creeps by Night: Chills and Thrills

So he treats the child himself? he asked after a minute or two had passed. Yes, she said. Gives him medicine, does he? Yes, she said. He’s not qualified to prescribe, said the Traveler; he’s no right to do that; even doctors don’t treat their own family. He will

do it, she said, though I beg him to let me take the child to a doctor; but he won’t hear of it. Does he give any reason? He says the doctors don’t know their job, she said; he gives the child a dose of some kind night and morning; he mixes it himself in the room downstairs I showed you; sometimes he makes me give it him. And have you no idea what the stuff is? asked her brother. No; but he thinks it’s something wonderful.

The Traveler asked her why she did not take the child to see a doctor without letting her husband know, but she said she would not dare. He would find out somehow, however dark she kept it; the child might tell him, for she knew that the two talked together sometimes when they were alone. And suppose he did get to know, her brother asked, what then? I don’t know, she said, but I’m frightened of him. And so was he, a little, the Traveler realized; still, he must do what he could for his sister, who was clearly ready to break down. He told her that if she would tell her husband, in front of him, that she insisted on the child’s being properly treated and refused to give him any more of the drug, he would support her as best he could. But she must nerve herself to face it out this evening, for to-morrow business would call him back to London. She seemed grateful for the offer, but was afraid, she said, to be left alone with her husband afterwards. Nonsense, he said; he’s never ill-treated you, has he? Look, you speak to him to-night, and to-morrow morning we’ll both take the child along to see the doctor; then we’ll come back here together and the three of us can talk it over quietly and see whether he’ll abide by what the doctor says: if the doctor says, as he’s sure to, that the child must take nothing but what he prescribes himself, then your husband will have to agree to it, of course, and if he goes back on his word you just send a wire to me and let me know. In the meantime I’ll make a few inquiries and find out the rights of the case in law. What can he do to you, anyway? You mustn’t let your nerves get out of hand, you know. Why, even suppose the man was a homicidal lunatic, you’ve got the neighbors at hand to help you; and perhaps you could get some one in to sleep with you...

This time he was prepared and turned as the door opened. The Chemist entered noiselessly, placing on the table a medicine glass half full of a clear liquid. He looked across at his wife with an air of malevolent inquiry. She gazed back at him helplessly and at last gave a timid answer, Very well. He nodded and silently left the room.

He knows, he knows, she whispered when the door was shut; didn’t you see the way he looked at me? Well, he may have guessed, said her brother uneasily; you should have told him then, you know. I couldn’t, she said. The Traveler found himself infected by her fear. It was absurd; the Chemist was a big brute, far more powerful than himself, but it was ridiculous to suppose that there would be appeal to physical force. Angry with himself for his qualms he took up the glass and threw its contents into the fire. There, he said, that’s the end of that; I’ll speak to him when he comes back; don’t you worry.

She left him to put the child to bed, coming back later to lay the cold supper. The Chemist joined them in his shirt-sleeves, his fingers browned with acid. Not two words were spoken throughout the meal. As they rose from the table the Chemist said, Did you give it him? No, said the Traveler, she did not. The Chemist ignored him and asked his wife again, Did you give it him? No, she said, very white, I... knocked it over. That’s not true, said her brother; I threw it on the fire; the child must see a doctor; you can’t go on treating him yourself, he’s getting worse and worse. The Chemist still looked across the table at his wife. You won’t give it him, then? he asked. The Traveler nodded urgently at his sister. No, she said desperately, I won’t. The Chemist gave a low chuckle, nodded, and left the room in his stockinged feet.