"Dr. Pomeroy, I know better!" was the reply.
"Mr. Brand, I know what I am talking about, a good deal better than you imagine!" sneered the doctor, who having by that time managed to get his face into that shape which he had no objection to being seen by his patient, now turned about and faced him, with his hands under the tails of his coat.
"What do you know?" was the inquiry, a little trouble blending with the anxiety in the face.
"Well, I will tell you, as perhaps you may as well learn the fact from me as from any one else," answered the doctor, his tones now very smooth, and his manner almost deferential, as should be the demeanor of any man towards his victim at the moment of stabbing him under the fifth rib. "I had occasion to call at the armory of the Reserves, an hour or two ago, to set the broken arm of one of the fellows who had taken too much Monongahela in anticipation of his start, and fallen down-stairs. I learned there and then, with some surprise and not a little grief (the father ought to have caught the expression of his face at that moment, and thereby measured the "grief" indicated!) that Mr. Carlton Brand had been down at the armory, alleged his business to be such that he could not possibly leave the city, and declined any further connection whatever with the regiment."
"It is impossible!" said the father.
"It is true, however, like a good many impossible things!" again sneered the physician. "And I have been thinking whether some others of members of the State militia would not be found like your amiable son—too busy to pay any attention to the defence of the State!"
"Dr. Pomeroy!" said the father, after one moment of almost stupefied silence. "Dr. Pomeroy, you have not been friends with my son for a long time, and I know it, though I do not know what could have caused any disagreement. But I do not suppose you would deliberately tell a falsehood about him that could be detected in half an hour; and I want to know what there is hidden in your words, more than you have chosen to convey."
"You had better ask your son when he comes!" was the reply.
"No—I ask you, now, and I think you had better answer me!" said the old man.
"Well, then," answered the doctor, "if you insist upon it, my love for the young man is not so warm as to give me a great deal of pain in the telling, and you may know all you wish. Your son has been doubted a little, ever since the breaking out of the war, from his repeated refusals of positions in the army; and—"