Detective and mystery stories; New Jersey -- Fiction
Soon he found himself seated at the stained old mahogany table with the
two men, and between two glasses, a bottle, and a pitcher of hot water.
Doctor Gordon dealt a pack of dirty cards while the hotel keeper poured
the apple-jack. James could not help staring at the elder doctor with
more and more amazement. He seemed to assimilate perfectly with his
surroundings. The tormented expression had gone from his face. He was
simply convivial, and of the same sort as Georgie K. He no longer
looked even a gentleman. He had become of the soil, the New Jersey soil.
As they drank and played, he told stories, and roared with laughter at
them. The stories also belonged to the soil, they were folk lore, wild,
coarse, but full of humanity. Although Doctor Gordon drank freely of the
rich mellow liquor, it did not apparently affect him. His cheeks above
his gray furze of beard became slightly flushed, that was all.
James drank rather sparingly. The stuff seemed to him rather fiery, and
he remembered the goddess in the doctor's house. He could imagine her
look of high disdain at him should he return under the influence of
liquor. Besides, he did not particularly care for the apple-jack.
It was midnight before they left. Georgie K. went to the door with them,
and he and the doctor shook hands heartily. "Come again," said Georgie
K., "and the sooner the better, and bring the young Doc. We'll make him
have a good time."
Until they were near home, Doctor Gordon continued his strangely
incongruous conversation, telling story after story, and shouting with
laughter. When they came in sight of the house Gordon stopped suddenly
and leaned against a great maple beside the road. He stared at the
house, two of the upper windows of which were lighted, and gave a great
sigh, almost a groan. James stopped also and stared at him. He wondered
if the apple-jack had gone to the doctor's head after all. "What is the
matter?" he ventured.
"Nothing, except the race is at a finish, and I am caught as I always
am," replied Doctor Gordon.
"The race--" repeated James vaguely.
"Yes, the race with myself. Myself has caught up with me, God help me,
and I am in its clutches. The time may come when you will try to race
with self, my boy. Let me tell you, you will never win. You will tire
yourself out, and make a damned idiot of yourself for nothing. I shall
race again to-morrow. I never learn the lesson, but perhaps you can, you
are young. Well, come along. Please be as quiet as you can when you go
into the house. My sister may be asleep. She is perfectly well, but she
is a little nervous. I need not repeat my request that you do not
mention your adventure with Clemency this afternoon to her."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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