Trial and Error Read Free Page B

chances. Frankly, you remind me of that poor old chap in Madame Tussaud’s who was released from his cell in the Bastille by the mob and never got over it.”
    â€œDon’t talk such damned nonsense,” said Mr Todhunter wrathfully.
    â€œYou mustn’t get angry,” advised the doctor. “That’s the first thing. No strong emotions, please, or you’ll be shot out of prison straight way. Likewise, no violent exertion. Walk slowly, never run, rest every second step going upstairs, no excitement, be on your guard all the time against any sudden strain. It’ll be a drab life, but you can prolong it that way if you really want to. We can’t cut down your diet much further, or I’d do that too. In any case, the aneurism is almost bound to burst within six months—well, a year at the outside—however careful you are. You asked me to be frank, you know.”
    â€œOh yes, I did,” Mr Todhunter agreed bitterly.
    â€œRest as much as you can,” the doctor went on. “Avoid all alcohol. No smoking. Heaven help you, if I were in your shoes I’d run straight home from here and arrive there dead. Made your will, I suppose?”
    â€œI never knew,” said Mr Todhunter with distaste, “what a damned old ghoul you are.”
    â€œNothing of the sort,” retorted the doctor indignantly. “Ghoul be blowed! That’s just your infernal conventionality, Todhunter. You always were a conventional old stick. It’s the accepted thing to be sorry for the dying—yes, in spite of religion which teaches us that anyone who isn’t a scoundrel is going to be a whole lot better off dead—so you think I ought to be sorry for you; and when I tell you I envy you instead, you call me a ghoul.”
    â€œVery well,” said Mr Todhunter with dignity. “You’re not a ghoul. But I can’t help wondering whether your unselfish anxiety for my welfare can have coloured your diagnosis. In other words, I think I’d like a second opinion.”
    The doctor grinned and drew a slip of paper towards him. “You won’t get me rattled that way. By all means have a second opinion, and a third, and a fourth. They’ll only confirm me. Here’s an address for you. A very sound man, perhaps the soundest for this kind of thing. He’ll soak you three guineas, and you’ll jolly well deserve it.”
    Mr Todhunter slowly put on his coat.
    â€œI wonder,” he said with reluctance, “whether you’re not really such an ass as you sound?”
    â€œYou mean, whether there’s something in what I’ve been saying? My boy, there’s a whole lot in it. In my opinion the case for survival is proved—scientifically proved. And what does that give us? Well, no state can be lower, and consequently more unpleasant, than the physical one. That means that any subsequent state must, for the ordinarily decent person, be considerably more pleasant. It absolutely follows therefore that——”
    â€œYes, yes,” said Mr Todhunter and took his leave.
    2
    Feeling slightly unreal, Mr Todhunter took a taxi to Welbeck Street. Although well able to afford it, this was actually the first time he had ever taken a taxi from Richmond, where he lived, to the West End; for Mr Todhunter was as careful in matters of money as in matters of health. But the occasion seemed to demand a taxi this time.
    The specialist took his three guineas and confirmed the doctor’s diagnosis, and prognosis, too, in every detail.
    Shaken, Mr Todhunter took another taxi. He was a cautious man and seldom made up his own mind on any point until he had canvassed the views of at least three other people. He therefore caused himself to be driven to a second specialist, who could not conceivably be in a league with either of the other two men. When this third opinion proved in complete agreement with theirs, Mr Todhunter allowed himself to feel