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<h2 id="III">CHAPTER III. AN UNFORTUNATE LETTER.</h2> The young physician halted at a little distance and watched the meeting between the two partners. Crawford had been trudging along with head bent, as if brooding over the loss of his faithful animal and the mystery of that unexpected shot, but when he looked up at length and saw Stone, he hastened his steps and called after him. His genial greeting was borne to Floyd’s ears. “Hello, Jimmy!” Crawford shouted. “How’s the boy this morning?” [17] There was nothing for Stone to do but to halt and turn. He nodded curtly, however, and when they walked on together, it was evident that Crawford was doing all the talking. “That’s a queer deal,” thought Floyd, with a puzzled, apprehensive look on his face. “If Stone isn’t touched in the head, I’ll miss my guess, but I can’t imagine what the cause of it is. They’ve been pals for years, and have gone through thick and thin together. Their friendship has been the talk of this mining country for I don’t know how long, and Crawford seems to be as fond of his partner as ever, in spite of all the rebuffs he has given him lately. I’m afraid I’ve made a big mistake and been altogether too easy on Stone. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to Crawford, but it didn’t seem right to make the other suffer for that insane act.” He went about his duties in an absent-minded way, however, and had done a great deal of thinking before he encountered Crawford that afternoon, as he was making his rounds. The two men greeted each other cordially, and after Floyd had looked about to see that they were unobserved he said quickly: “I’ll walk along for a short distance with you, if I may, Mr. Crawford. I find myself in a very difficult position, and what I’ve decided to say seems like a very serious breach of confidence. I feel that I must say it, though, because otherwise the responsibility would be too heavy for me to bear.” Crawford looked at him keenly. “Is it about Jimmy Stone?” he asked. [18] “How did you guess?” was the surprised query. “Oh, I’m not blind, Charlie, and I can put two and two together. Jimmy hasn’t been himself for months, and I know others have noticed it. I saw him talking with you this morning. Have you any idea what is the matter with him?” The young physician tapped his forehead significantly. “I’m afraid it’s—a little of that,” he answered reluctantly. “You do? I feared something of the sort, but I hoped I was mistaken. What a pity! Jimmy has always been one of the finest and whitest men that ever stepped the earth, and a friend worth having. I’ve worried and worried over him lately, and tried to recall anything I had said or done that might have turned him against me. I haven’t been able to think of a thing that any man in his sound sense would resent to such an extent, and I’ve been obliged to come to the conclusion that he was not altogether responsible. Do you think anything can be done for him? We’ve both got plenty of money now, and I’m ready and willing——” “I’m sure you are, Mr. Crawford,” Floyd assured him, “and I hope Mr. Stone can be helped. In fact, I’m almost sure he can be. He’s absolutely normal in every other way, and this change is so recent that the trouble can’t be very deep-seated. He has promised me that he will consult a famous alienist in New York.” “He has?” [19] Crawford gave a start as he put the question. “Then you’ve actually talked with him about it?” he went on wonderingly. “Has he sought your advice?” “Hardly,” was the reply. “I butted in, and, of course, he was up in arms in a moment. Nobody likes to be called crazy—least of all a crazy man. It had to be done, though. If I tell you something, will you give me your word not to use it in any way against Mr. Stone?” “Of course. I’d protect Jimmy’s life at the risk of my own any day.” “I haven’t a doubt of it, but this is asking a great deal of you. Mr. Crawford, it was—it was your partner who fired that shot at you this morning.” Crawford gave the young doctor a long, searching look, and then said quietly: “That isn’t exactly news to me, Charlie. I guessed as much.” “You did? And yet you could greet him as you did?” “Why not? It was not the Jimmy Stone I’ve known for twenty years or more who did it. It was this surly, glowering chap who has stepped into his shoes. I don’t bear any ill will—I can’t. I’ve been looking for something of the sort, and of course I’ve tried to protect myself and shall continue to do so. I have no intention of having him confined, though, and you must promise me that you won’t take any such steps. There’s no danger to any one else, and if I choose to run the risk it’s my own business.” [20] “I knew that would be your attitude,” Floyd told him, “and I allowed myself to promise Mr. Stone that on certain conditions I would not play the part of informer.” “You accused him of it, then?” “Yes. I witnessed the whole thing, and told him I had done so. I used my knowledge to extract a couple of promises from him, but since then I’ve been wondering if I did right. I’ve worried a lot about the possible consequences to you, and finally I made up my mind that I’d simply have to warn you. Strictly speaking, I didn’t give my word to say nothing to you. I simply agreed not to inform the authorities; but of course Stone did not dream that I would tell you, and I feel like a sneak in doing so. I couldn’t bear to let you remain in ignorance, however, for if I had, I would have felt that I was indirectly responsible if anything happened to you.” Crawford nodded slowly and gripped the young physician’s shoulder. “I understand, Charlie,” he said. “It was a knotty problem, but you’ve solved it the best you knew how, and I thank you for your warning, although it wasn’t necessary. What were the promises Jimmy gave you?” “I made him swear that he would make no further attempt on you unless in self-defense. Nothing can persuade him, you know, that you aren’t gunning for him, but I knew if he kept that promise nothing would happen. It was a long chance to take with a man in[21] his mental condition, I suppose, but I couldn’t bear the thought of giving him up to justice.” Crawford nodded understandingly. “Nor can I,” he said. “I hope he’ll keep the promise, knowing the light in which your testimony would place him if he didn’t, but I don’t intend to change my plans in the least. I’ll keep an eye on him as best I can, but we’ll travel together unless he refuses. If he finishes me—well, so be it. The responsibility will be mine, not yours. But what about the other promise? Was it that he should seek the advice of a specialist in New York?” “Yes. I gave him the name of Doctor Stephen Follansbee, the famous head of St. Swithin’s Hospital. Doctor Follansbee is at the top of his profession in New York, and has a great reputation for handling such cases in an unusual way without resorting to the customary confinement of the patient.” “Good! Nothing could be better! If Jimmy goes to him, we’ll hope that all will come out right, and that I’ll soon have my old partner back. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Charlie, but we’d better separate now. If Jimmy should happen to see us together, or hear that we had been, he might smell a rat and make things decidedly unpleasant for you.” They shook hands again and separated, but Doctor Floyd felt that he had one more duty to perform that day. When he returned to the rough little shack which he occupied, his first act after supper was to sit down and write a rather lengthy letter. It was[22] addressed to his former professor, Doctor Follansbee, and in it he gave the celebrated alienist a history of James Stone’s case, so far as he knew it. He wished Follansbee to receive the letter before Stone’s arrival, and to have something else to go on besides the man’s own statements. Incidentally, knowing that Follansbee’s charges were very high, he thought best to mention the facts concerning the recent sale of the mine. He informed the specialist that Stone and Crawford had been equal partners in the Condor, and that the share of each was reputed to be five hundred thousand dollars. For no particular reason, he added that so far as was known Stone and Crawford were alone in the world, and that the general understanding was that each had drawn a will in favor of the other before the estrangement had come about. Young Floyd was nothing if not thorough, but had he known the consequences which would follow the writing of that letter he would have cut off his right hand rather than send it. <hr class="chap" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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