Spring-heeled Jack and the President's Ring

Chapter 2 ~ Magnetron Satisfies his Curiosity

"I replied simply that I was privy to Dr. Hogalum's secret illness and that I wanted no more than the plain truth.  The doctor took his own alcoholic libation at that time and closed his office door and window."

I arrived in Richmond somewhat later than anticipated, owing to delays arising from un-employed rail workers entreating for an opportunity to earn a living.  It seemed a reasonable request, and I was inclined to condole with them.  However, my opinion on such matters was inconsequential inasmuch as I was rarely consulted on such policies, and I will confess annoyance at my own comparatively trivial inconvenience.

Although I carried no baggage, I was nevertheless obliged to hire a swift carriage so as to arrive at Dr. Glockenholz's office at the appointed time.  His was rather a large practice, with a half dozen examining rooms, two comprehensive surgeries, a well-stocked dispensary, an awe-inspiring laboratory, and a dazzling bevy of nurses, all of which Dr. Glockenholz exhibited with practiced flair and a thick Teutonic accent.  The tour ended in his office, a spacious room curiously overshadowed by an enormous African tribal mask which hung from an otherwise bare wall opposite another wall encrusted with a dozen or so diplomas and other certificates of accreditation.

"Vould you care for a drink, Herr Magnetron?" he offered, which offer I politely declined.  Dr. Glockenholz was a fine host, but I was growing impatient all the same.  I commenced the direct line of questioning which I had rehearsed during my train journey.  I explained I was an old friend of Dr. Hogalum's and that I desired to know the circumstances surrounding his demise.  He offered an account which was a nearly verbatim recitation of newspaper reports of Hogalum's death from carbon monoxide poisoning, reportedly resulting from a blocked furnace flue.

I replied simply that I was privy to Dr. Hogalum's secret illness and that I wanted no more than the plain truth.  The doctor took his own alcoholic libation at that time and closed his office door and window.  Yes, Dr. Hogalum had been ill and was devising a cure for his inoperable cancer.  He had asked Dr. Glockenholz to confer with him on the development of the revolutionary remedy.  They had collaborated for many months when Dr. Hogalum announced that—though his experimentation was incomplete—his time was too short for further delay.  He would take his medication and requested that Dr. Glockenholz be present in the event a medical emergency should develop.

On that fateful day Dr. Glockenholz appeared at the home of Dr. Hogalum with a young medical student named Jean-Michel Corbière, one of six interns then under Dr. Glockenholz's tutelage, whose task was simply to take detailed notes.  Dr. Glockenholz administered the medication and Hogalum died soon after.  Dr. Glockenholz attempted every known method of resuscitation while the young intern looked on in horror.

The doctor was visibly distressed as he described the terrible event, but I was forced to continue my investigation.  "Where is Mr. Corbière now?"  I asked.  According to Glockenholz, the young man had disappeared after the frightful events, returning to his native France.  Some time later he sent to Dr. Glockenholz a letter of apology for his ineffectual behavior in the face of a medical emergency, vowing to discontinue his studies and become a haberdasher.  The doctor showed to me a small framed daguerreotype of his six apprentices, tapping on Corbière's chest.  "Tragedy upon tragedy!  Zis vun had great promise but he is lost to us now!"

Suddenly, the door to Glockenholz's office swung open, although I had been quite certain the doctor had locked it.