to me. Indeed, in those days I told neither
more nor less than the truth. Evil results occasionally followed the use
of bad lymph or unclean treatment after the subject had been inoculated.
Thus most of the cases of erysipelas into which I examined arose not
from vaccination but from the dirty surroundings of the patient. Wound a
million children, however slightly, and let flies settle on the wound
or dirt accumulate in it, and the result will be that a certain small
proportion will develop erysipelas quite independently of the effects of
vaccination.

In the same way, some amount of inoculated disease must follow the
almost promiscuous use of lymph taken from human beings. The danger is
perfectly preventable, and ought long ago to have been prevented, by
making it illegal, under heavy penalties, to use any substance except
that which has been developed in calves and scientifically treated with
glycerine, when, as I believe, no hurt can possibly follow. This is the
verdict of science and, as tens of thousands can testify, the common
experience of mankind.

CHAPTER VII

CROSSING THE RUBICON

My appearance as an expert before the Royal Commission gave me
considerable importance in the eyes of a large section of the
inhabitants of Dunchester. It was not the wealthiest or most influential
section indeed, although in it were numbered some rich and powerful men.
Once again I found myself with a wide and rapidly increasing practice,
and an income that was sufficient for my needs. Mankind suffers from
many ailments besides that of smallpox, indeed in Dunchester this
question of the value of vaccination was at that time purely academical,
as except for an occasional case there had been no outbreak of smallpox
for years. Now, as I have said, I was a master of my trade, and soon
proved myself competent to deal skilfully with such illnesses, surgical
or medical, as I was called upon to treat. Thus my practice grew,
especially among the small tradespeople and artisans, who did not belong
to clubs, but preferred to pay for a doctor in whom they had confidence.

Three years and more had gone by since that night on which I sat
opposite to a wine-glass full of poison and was the prey of visions,
when once again I received a call from Stephen Strong. With this
good-hearted, though misguided man, and his amiable, but weak-minded
wife, I had kept up an intimacy that in time ripened into genuine
friendship. On every Sunday night,