iodine tincture.
Immediately I realized what I had done, and was about to cancel my order when it occurred to me how poorly my vow of temperance had served me when it came to resisting Eddie—that sobriety and sanity are not necessarily the same thing.
Service was instant and enthusiastic. The whiskey was delicious.I would tender my formal resignation to the Temperance Brotherhood at some future date.
I dabbed iodine on the thumb with a bit of cotton. The patient winced—as I would myself, for the stuff stings damnably. Yet he did not complain, for the pain of the swelling was worse. And in any case, the specter of amputation had gained his full attention.
“I wonder if you might know anything about a gentleman who collapsed outside on election night,” I asked, as casually as possible.
“Election night? Several chentlemen there vas over the bay. Stabbings and sings of that sort there vas—until the opponent of Riley foted against himself and conceded.”
A typical election outcome, it seemed to me. But when Eddie called out Riley’s name, was it significant? It would be typical for Eddie to invent a name for death, and to use the name of a politician.
“Did the name Poe come up at any time?”
“Neffer heard it.”
“Edgar Allan Poe?”
“Neffer heard of him eiser.”
I finished dressing the thumb—in all probability it would require amputation, if not the entire hand—and prepared to take my leave, having wasted my afternoon.
“Take this vial,” I said. “Put some on the wound twice a day after bathing it in hot water.”
The innkeeper looked at the vial as though unpleasantly surprised. Washing had not been a factor in his calculations.
“If it is not better in three days,” I continued, “come up to Washington College Hospital and ask for Dr. Chivers. Here is my card.”
“Might it haff to come off?” He asked, as though appealing to my better nature.
“Let’s hope for the best,” I replied, and raised my glass: “I drink to your thumb. To the health of thumbs everywhere!” I admit that the unaccustomed whiskey may have gone to my head.
The Bavarian frowned at his bandaged thumb as though one might an ill-behaved child. A trickle of tobacco juice took refuge in a whisker while he indulged in gloomy thoughts of amputation and death.
I left my card and turned to leave, when a sudden inspiration occurred—having to do with Poe’s reputation for handling his financial affairs.
“I notice that you have rooms to let.”
“Ve do, and chip they are at fifty cents.”
“Very reasonable indeed. Even so, have you recently had the misfortune of a nonpaying guest?”
The innkeeper’s face darkened. “Indeed we haff, Herr Doctor, and on election night too.”
“Would his name by any chance be Poe?”
“No that vas not the name.”
“Henri Le Rennet? Richard Perry?”
“Perry! It was the dodcher’s name.”
“And he rented the room on election night?”
“Ja . Three nights he owes and this morning he vas gone, luggage vas gone …” The innkeeper’s face brightened slightly: “Is it you are knowing Mr. Perry? Haff you seen him?”
“As a matter of fact, I am after him myself. He owes me some money for treatment received.”
“Ah. I vas the luckier for that. He left a suit of clothes—no fest or shirt, but alles vas in good repair. I am getting two dollars for it.”
H AVING ASSEMBLED A clear narrative of Eddie’s activities on the nights surrounding his arrival and departure, I decided to wander down to the local constabulary. There I made inquiries and, as expected, there had occurred no incident with Negroes of the sort Poe described. Now it became perfectly obvious why he had worn a suit of old clothes: being scrupulous in his dress, and being short of funds, he wished to save his own!
After he left the hospital, leaving his oldest friend holding the bag, I imagined Eddie Poe returning to Ryan’s Saloon, changing into his own clothes, retrieving his trunk,
Immediately I realized what I had done, and was about to cancel my order when it occurred to me how poorly my vow of temperance had served me when it came to resisting Eddie—that sobriety and sanity are not necessarily the same thing.
Service was instant and enthusiastic. The whiskey was delicious.I would tender my formal resignation to the Temperance Brotherhood at some future date.
I dabbed iodine on the thumb with a bit of cotton. The patient winced—as I would myself, for the stuff stings damnably. Yet he did not complain, for the pain of the swelling was worse. And in any case, the specter of amputation had gained his full attention.
“I wonder if you might know anything about a gentleman who collapsed outside on election night,” I asked, as casually as possible.
“Election night? Several chentlemen there vas over the bay. Stabbings and sings of that sort there vas—until the opponent of Riley foted against himself and conceded.”
A typical election outcome, it seemed to me. But when Eddie called out Riley’s name, was it significant? It would be typical for Eddie to invent a name for death, and to use the name of a politician.
“Did the name Poe come up at any time?”
“Neffer heard it.”
“Edgar Allan Poe?”
“Neffer heard of him eiser.”
I finished dressing the thumb—in all probability it would require amputation, if not the entire hand—and prepared to take my leave, having wasted my afternoon.
“Take this vial,” I said. “Put some on the wound twice a day after bathing it in hot water.”
The innkeeper looked at the vial as though unpleasantly surprised. Washing had not been a factor in his calculations.
“If it is not better in three days,” I continued, “come up to Washington College Hospital and ask for Dr. Chivers. Here is my card.”
“Might it haff to come off?” He asked, as though appealing to my better nature.
“Let’s hope for the best,” I replied, and raised my glass: “I drink to your thumb. To the health of thumbs everywhere!” I admit that the unaccustomed whiskey may have gone to my head.
The Bavarian frowned at his bandaged thumb as though one might an ill-behaved child. A trickle of tobacco juice took refuge in a whisker while he indulged in gloomy thoughts of amputation and death.
I left my card and turned to leave, when a sudden inspiration occurred—having to do with Poe’s reputation for handling his financial affairs.
“I notice that you have rooms to let.”
“Ve do, and chip they are at fifty cents.”
“Very reasonable indeed. Even so, have you recently had the misfortune of a nonpaying guest?”
The innkeeper’s face darkened. “Indeed we haff, Herr Doctor, and on election night too.”
“Would his name by any chance be Poe?”
“No that vas not the name.”
“Henri Le Rennet? Richard Perry?”
“Perry! It was the dodcher’s name.”
“And he rented the room on election night?”
“Ja . Three nights he owes and this morning he vas gone, luggage vas gone …” The innkeeper’s face brightened slightly: “Is it you are knowing Mr. Perry? Haff you seen him?”
“As a matter of fact, I am after him myself. He owes me some money for treatment received.”
“Ah. I vas the luckier for that. He left a suit of clothes—no fest or shirt, but alles vas in good repair. I am getting two dollars for it.”
H AVING ASSEMBLED A clear narrative of Eddie’s activities on the nights surrounding his arrival and departure, I decided to wander down to the local constabulary. There I made inquiries and, as expected, there had occurred no incident with Negroes of the sort Poe described. Now it became perfectly obvious why he had worn a suit of old clothes: being scrupulous in his dress, and being short of funds, he wished to save his own!
After he left the hospital, leaving his oldest friend holding the bag, I imagined Eddie Poe returning to Ryan’s Saloon, changing into his own clothes, retrieving his trunk,
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