Sir Anthony beamed. “Well, Sir Charles,” he said, “I’m very glad to hear it’s no worse,”—and as Sir Anthony went out he muttered to himself: “No more mad than I am; but he mustn’t go talking like that about other people.” And the physician chuckled heartily.
Dr. Bowker’s introduction to, and private stay with, the patient was briefer even than had been Sir Anthony’s. He chose for his gambit the remark: “Sir Anthony Poole has just seen you I believe, Sir Charles?”
“Yes he has,” answered Charles Repton in a pleasant and genial tone, “yes he has, Dr. Bowker, though why,” he added, with a happy laugh, “I can’t conceive. After all, if I wanted a doctor for any reason I should naturally send to a specialist.”
When Sir Charles had answered the next few questions very simply, that he had two or three times in the last twenty-four hours felt shooting pains behind the ear, he then reverted to his praise of the specialist.
“If I had any nervous trouble, for instance, Dr. Bowker, I should send for you. If I had trouble with my tibia, I should send for Felton.”
Dr. Bowker nodded the most vigorous approval. It was evident that Sir Charles Repton’s considerable if superficial learning was standing him in good stead.
“If I had trouble with my aural ducts I should send for Durand, or,” he continued, in the tone of one who continues to illustrate a little pompously, “if my greater lymphatics were giving me trouble, Pigge is the first name that would suggest itself.”
Dr. Bowker’s enthusiasm knew no bounds. “You are quite right, Sir Charles,” he said, “you are quite right.” He almost took the Baronet’s hand in the warmth of his agreement. “If more men—I will not say of your distinction and position, but if more people—er—of what I may call the—er—directing brain of the nation, were of your opinion, it would be a good day for Medicine.”
“Now a man like Poole,” went on Charles Repton nonchalantly, “what does he know, what can he know, about any particular trouble? And mind you, an educated man always knows in more or less general terms what his particular trouble is. Why Poole—well....” Here Sir Charles ended with a pitying little smile.
“At any rate,” said Dr. Bowker, bursting with assent, “I understand the old trouble has not returned. And if it had, as you very well said, it would be Felton’s job rather than mine. Of course it has a nervous aspect; everything has, but every specialist has his own field.”