Introduction

THE SCAR

A Thrilling Novelette

By CARL RAMUS, M. D.

“Thanks for the lift, Edwards. Come in for a minute, won’t you?”

“No. I was up nearly all last night, and must get some sleep.”

“To be sure! But you’ve time for a nip before you go.”

“Well—since you put it that way, and in these arid times——”

“Good! Come along.”

Dr. Herbert Carlson opened the door of his office on the first floor with his latch key, snapped on the lights, and entered with his colleague, Dr. Clark Edwards. Carlson hung up his overcoat and hat, and Edwards threw his own over a chair, and then Carlson produced from an inner room a bottle, two glasses, and a siphon of carbonic.

“Like the good old days,” smiled Edwards, sipping his glass. “How do you get it?”

“A voluntary donation from a grateful patient, a second steward on board the—but that would be telling.”

Edwards took another sip. “I wish I had one or two patients like that!”

“You’re not likely to get them as long as you stick to your specialty.”

“I suppose not—Hello! What’s all that shouting for?”

Both men listened. Newsboys were yelling an “Extra.” Carlson opened a window, leaned far out, and drew up a paper.

“Just another bank robbery. They’re so common now as to be hardly worth mentioning.”

“Exactly. Anything new in the Holden case?”

“Let’s see.... O yes! Here it is: ‘Father of Ina Holden gets another threatening letter.’”

Edwards’ jaw set. “If I had my way,” he said, “every kidnapper would go to the chair!”

“I’ll go you one better. If I had my way, they’d get the Georgia treatment!”

“What’s that?”

“Lynching!”

Edwards was silent.

“The trouble is,” Carlson went on, “that we have too much legal red tape, too much politics, too many lawyers, and too little real law.”

“I suppose so,” said Edwards. “When we haven’t children of our own, it takes some special circumstance to bring home to us the meaning of a damnable crime like kidnapping. This Holden case brings it home to me.”

“Indeed!”

“Very much so. It has to do with an unusual surgical case, which I believe was reported in the International Journal of Surgery or The London Lancet by Professor Meyerovitch.”

“I don’t remember reading it. Please tell me about it.”

“I will. It was when I was house surgeon at the Presbyterian Hospital in Chicago. One night a child of seven was brought in with all the signs of fulminating appendicitis. That child was Ina Holden.”

“Ah!”

[8]

“It was a private case of old Meyerovitch’s, and he decided on immediate operation. Now Meyerovitch was one of the few really good surgeons who wouldn’t use either the McBurney or Kamerer incision for appendicitis. He just cut down over the trouble and through everything in one line.”

“Fool!”

“Most of us thought so then, but somehow Meyerovitch always got good results—always.”

“Pure accident.”

“Perhaps so. But, anyhow, when little Ina was under the anaesthetic, and Meyerovitch had his knife in one hand—his left, by the way—and was testing the tension of the abdomen with the other hand, he said, ‘I will need plenty of room here.’ And then he surprised us all by making a reversed Senn incision.”

“I don’t seem to remember that incision,” said Carlson, after a slight pause. “What is it?”

“An S-shaped incision devised by Nicholas Senn when he was Professor of Surgery at Rush Medical College. You young fellows in New York don’t as a rule know about that incision.”

“But, Edwards, as I remember, Senn recommended the McBurney method in his book.”

“Yes, for appendicitis. He only used the S in neck operations. And so when Meyerovitch used it on Ina Holden, it was the first time on record for appendicitis, and probably the last.”

“Most likely. And how did the case get along?”

“Better than any of us expected. It was a drainage case, of course, and took some time to dry up. But the wound finally healed perfectly, with no suggestion of weakness, and left a large scar like a reversed S.”

“Meyerovitch’s bull luck.”

“Yes. I saw the child every day for more than a month and got much attached to her. She wouldn’t let anyone else dress the wound, and after she went home, the family often invited me to the house.”

“They’re very rich, aren’t they?”

“They are, now, but they weren’t then. Mr. Holden owned some manganese land in California, and when the Western Pacific laid its tracks over a corner of his property, he was a rich man.”

The colleagues silently finished their illegal glasses. Then Edwards looked at his watch and rose from his chair.

“Good night, Herbert, and many thanks for the drink.”

Carlson, alone, looked at a memorandum that his sister had left on his desk.

“Nothing more for tonight, thank God,” he thought with relief.

He closed and fastened the windows, bolted the door, and was passing into his bedroom, when the telephone rang.

“Damn! Why didn’t I muffle it?”

He put the receiver to his ear.

“Well?” he said abruptly.

“Doctor Carlson speaking?”

“Yes.”

“Can you come at once to a very sick case?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. My car is out of order, and I’m not very well myself tonight.”

“But this case is extremely urgent, sir, and we don’t want anyone else but you.”

“Thank you, but——”

“Please listen, Doctor. I’ll have a car for you in five minutes, and take you home afterwards, if you’ll only come.”

“Try another doctor first.”

“We have tried, but can’t find one of the only other two we have confidence in. Money is no object. Please do reconsider, Doctor.”

“Who recommended me to you? Do I know you?”

“I do not know you personally. But you are highly recommended by the Brooklyn Hospital. Once more[9] let me say that your fee can be as large as you like.”

Carlson did not answer for a while.

“All right, I’ll go,” he said at last. “What is it—a medical or surgical case?”

After a short silence, the voice replied: “Medical, I think. But you had better come prepared to do whatever is necessary.”

“Very well. I’ll be ready when you call for me.”

Carlson placed his medical and surgical bags on the table, put on his overcoat and hat, and sat down to wait.

In less than five minutes he heard the honk-honk of an automobile under the window, and he picked up his two bags, snapped off the lights, and went down to the waiting car, a large limousine.

As Carlson emerged from the house, the chauffeur got out of his seat and opened the car door. He wore a wide slouch hat, the brim of which hung down and so shaded his face from the corner electric light that Carlson could not make out his features. All he was sure of was a long heavy moustache. The lower part of the man’s face was concealed in a muffler. He opened the door and stood as if at attention.

When Carlson was inside with his bags the man closed the door silently, got into the driver’s seat, and the car was soon rushing up the street. It turned at the second corner, and after that made so many sharp turns among small and narrow and dark streets that Carlson began to feel uncomfortable.

At last they came to a long stretch of vacant lots, and went faster for half a minute or so, and then slowed down again. The chauffeur sounded three honks—one long and two short. Carlson bent forward and peered ahead, but could see nothing.

He did not like it at all, and he regretted that he had not brought his revolver. He was wondering what he had got into, when, suddenly, the car slowed down with a loud grinding of the brakes, and stopped with a jerk that threw Carlson violently forward.

A moment later both doors opened together, and he realized that masked men stood on either side of the car, covering him with revolvers or magazine pistols.

Then came a few moments of the most eloquent silence that Carlson had ever experienced. He said nothing and waited.

“Don’t be afraid, Doc,” said a thick voice, obviously disguised. “Just do as you are told and you’ll be O. K. But if you try any stunts—T. N. T. for you. Do you get me?”

“Yes. What do you want me to do?”

“You’ll be told later. My partner’ll sit by you now, and I’ll sit facing you. So——”

They got inside and shut the doors, and the car started forward at high speed.

“Sorry, Doc, but we’ll have to blindfold you,” said the masked man.

And then a heavy muffler was wound about his face.