Harmony in Light by Walter H. Hunt

Author:Walter H. Hunt [Hunt, Walter H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-61475-940-9
Publisher: WordFire Press

21

Discovery

It took most of the morning for Sauvier and Alphonse to assemble information that seemed to confirm much of what the intruder had said. Sauvier had decided that they should go on foot to the library of the Académie de Médecine on Rue Bonaparte—partly to clear his head, partly to give himself a chance to think. Alphonse seemed determined to chatter, and Sauvier did his best to carry on his end of the conversation; the young man was completely oblivious to the doctor’s fatigue or distraction.

Alphonse had spent very little time in the medical library; Sauvier had sent him occasionally to take notes from a journal or to find a reference or citation. The reading room was an impressive, echoing space like a private club, and the young man seemed overawed by the place: he could scarcely raise his voice above a whisper.

“So,” the doctor said, pushing weariness away and looking up from his notes when the younger man approached, bearing a small stack of folios and books. “Tell me what you’ve found.”

“This Dr. Esdaile is a very interesting subject, sir,” Alphonse said softly. “He is long dead: he died after serving the East India Company from 1831 for twenty years, serving in—let me see”—he carefully took his seat and examined his notes—“a place called Hooghly, some godforsaken place in the interior of India.”

“Ah, oui,” Sauvier said. “That confirms what I already know.”

Alphonse glanced curiously at his employer:: over the past few weeks the doctor had asked about Arthur Rimbaud, demonstrated an interest in long out-of-date stock market information … and now wanted to know something about a long-dead Scottish doctor who had served at the other end of the earth.

“Early on in his stay in India,” Alphonse continued, “he suffered a sort of breakdown. He took some time away from his work and traveled. Quite extensively, I should say.” He picked up two of the books to uncover a third, which he presented to Sauvier. “This is an account of his travels, published in Calcutta in 1843. In English, I’m afraid. I find it rather rough going, sir—”

“Quite all right. So, he traveled about and saw the world, then returned to his duties.”

“Yes. That’s right. But in 1845 something unusual happened: he began to practice some sort of conjuring trick on one of his patients who was suffering from epididymitis—he had a large growth—”

“A hydrocele. I am familiar with the medical condition, Alphonse.”

“Ah. Of course, Doctor. Apparently his suffering was sufficient that normal treatment offered no analgesic relief.”

“Mesmerism.”

“Monsieur,” Alphonse said carefully, “I realize that I have not entered your confidence completely on this case … but it would aid me greatly if you would direct my research more specifically.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Alphonse.”

“Monsieur.” He withdrew another small book from the stack and placed it before Sauvier. “If you could assist me by telling me some of what you already know, I could save both of us some time and effort.”

“Ah. I see what you mean.”

“Then …”

“Esdaile apparently

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