Dr. Wynyard's Patient.

Auckland Star, Volume XVII, Issue 202, 28 August 1886, Page 6

Dr. Wynyard's Patient.

Dr. Wy.n yard was a young medical practitioner who had just started in business, | and was doing fairly wolf. Ho had selected , 6_e of the districts of Netting Hill as the ' field of his labours, and, being a bachelor, ho contrived to make both ends meet. Still, ho found it upbill work, and fresh patient, did' not presorit themselves everyday. Consequently, ho was vory wall satisfied at boing summoned to a case which would require constant care and attention for several months. The invalid was a gentleman of about forty years of ago, stricken with a disease which must inovitably terminate fatally, though medical skill might relieve his sufferings, and possibly sustain life for a longor period than fato seemed to have decreed. Tho name of the sick man was Burton, and he lived with his wife in St. Barnabaa Square. Dr. Wynyard subsequently learnt that they had only resided there about six months, but, not being of a curious disposition, the young practitioner never troubled himsolf to inquire about their antecedents, ~,,_. He saw nothing, however, which led him to doubt that the Burtons w;ere moat respectable people. The patient was evidently not a highly-educated man; but Mrs Burton wos refined and ladylike, both in manner and appearance, and Dr. Wynyard always sußpected that she had married beneath her. Without being Handsome—or even.strictly speakmg,goodIboking—she was decidedly a fascinating woman, with large, soft, brown eyes, and ah expression of tenderness and sadness. Dr. Wynyard was" not a susceptible young roan, but he admired Mrs Burton, and soon discovered that he was taking an unusual interest in her poor husband for her sake. He was touched by the poor lady's devotion to tho invalid—the moro especially os Mr Burton, with the selfish capticiousness of a sick man, not unfrequently received her ministrations with singular ungraciousness. But Mrs Burton never uttered any complaint nor relaxed from her gentle devotion— a circumstance which helped to augment Dr. Wynyard's respect and esteem for her. The doctor cmsidered it his duty, on the earliest opportunity, to communicate to Mrs Burton his fears ot her husband's fliiißß terminating fatally. The poor lady was not unprepared for the announcement, having been warned, some time since, by a physician of high standing, that the disease was incurable; but she was terribly distressed at the proßpect of the end bemg so near. To soothe her, Dr. Wynyard suggested calling iv an eminent specialist for a consultation, to which she eagerly agreed. This gentleman, however, only confirmed Dr. Wynyard's opinion, and Mrs Burton reluctantly consented to the sick man being informed of his hopeless condition. Tho ■ poor fellow received the news with extraordinary fortitude, and seemed considerably less affected than his poor wife. For tho next three months Dr. V\ ynyard never missed visiting tbe patient daily, and Sometimes oftener. He earned the grutifude of the dying man by his skilful attention and conetant care. He waa well remunerated for his services, as Mrs Burton iheiated upon hia sending in his account periodicolly, which she paid forthwith. But he was chiefly gratified by the lady s touching expressions of thanke, and her evident appreciation of his efforts. His admiration for Mrs Burton bod reached such a point that, unent*usiastic as he was by nature, he felt he could almost go through fire and water for her. _ One day, when the end Was visibly approaching, Mrs Burton said, upon the termination of the doctor's professional

duties : — , , . _ "I think, Dr. Wynyard, my husband wishes you to see him sign his will." _ " Certainly," said tho doctor, glancing at the patient, who nodded acquiescence. "He had it prepared some .rime ago. Shall I fetch it?" inquirod Mrs Burton, gently addressing her husband. Ia obedience to a gesture from him, she left tho room, returning presently with a document in her hand. „„r-,_ T " I should like you to read it out before I sigD," said Mr Burtc-. Dr Wynyard unfolded the will, which was very short, and read it aloud. It contained a bequest of £500, free of legacy duty, to Charlotte Emlin,the wife of John Emlin, and gave everything else the testatorpossessedt- his wife, who wasappointtd Bole execut— " Is that correct ? inquired Mrs Burton to her husband. " Does that express your wishes ?" The invalid nodded, and intimated his readiness to sign. Dr. Wynyard, who knew something about the formalities to be observed in executing wills, sent for a second witness, and also attested it himself. He felt no scruples about th c matter, for Mr Burton was in full possession of his faculties, and was perfectly aware what he was doing. The sick man's physical weakness, however, became very conspicuons when ho attempted to write his name, and it was only after several efforts that he produced a sorawl resembling a signature. As he sank back exhausted upon the pillow, Mrs Burton took up the will, and was proceeding, apparently, to put it in some place of safety, when her husband stopped her. "Leave it." he panted, looking at her angrily. Without a word the poor lady laid down the document upon the bed, but she could not restrain a flush of indignation from mounting to her cheeks. " Doctor," said the sick man, as soon as he could speak, " I want you to take charge of it." " Certainly, if you wish," said the doctor, glancing at Mrs BurteD, who merely bowed her head. Bather reluctantly—for he dreaded hurting tbe poor lady'B feelings—ho took possession of thewill, and placed it in the side pocket of his coat. "Do you know nn honest lawyer ? continued the invalid. " Yes, I have a friend who is a solicitor," replied Dr. Wynyard. --~,, "When lam gone, continued Mr Burton, rather excitedly, "promise me_ that you will yourself place that document in his hands, and tell him to see to its being carried out—particularly the legacy to Charlotte Emlin." •'I really think," said the doctor, doubtfully, "that Mrs Burton is the executrix

"I am quite content with the arrangement my husband suggests," interposed Mrs Burton calmly. After this there was nothing more to be said, and Dr. Wynyard was relieved to find, upon speaking to cer afterwards, that the eentle lady did not resent either her huebond's comments or the doctor's unwilling interference in a matter that chiefly concerned her. . Within a weok from this episode Mr Burton died. The doctor was not present ot the death, but ho had been with the patient shortly before, and. was summoned immediately afterwards. Thero was no question that tho poor fellow had died of bis fatal complaint. The doctor certified accordingly and rendered the widow what assistance ho could in arranging for the funeral. Mrs Burton bore her affliction with great composure, having evidently steeled herself for the ordoal. Sbo followed her husband to the grave, sho and the doctor being the only mourners. She accounted for this by explaining that what relations her husband had were persons of humble station, residing in the country. The day aftor Mr Burton was buried Dr. Wynyard escortod the widow to the office of his friend, James Seaford, who was a solicitor, practising in the City To this gentleman the doctor handed over the will of the dead man, in accordance with the promise, and, having formally introduced the lawyer to his new client he left Mrs Burton and Mr Seaford to discuss business details in privato. This was tho last occasion that, to his knowledge, Dr Wynyard ever set eyes on Mrs Burton. He called upon her onco when she happoned to be out, and a few dayß later tho widow went down to Hastings for change of air and scene. Contrary to her expressed intention, she never returned to town again. The lawyer superintended tho sale of her husband's furniture and elect', andas soon ts thebusij ness.connectt d with hiß decease had been settled, Mrs Burton left Hastings, and the doctor never heard afterwards what became When the memory of the amiable widow was beginning to fade from hie mind, Dr Wynyard seriously congratulated himself upon the abrupt termination of their acquaintance. He waß a prudent young man, and he could not conceal from himself that to have married a lady ten yeara hia senior would have been unwise. Yet such had been his admiration for Mra Burton that he

con idered such an event might have happened had the lady shown a disposition to regard him favourably. Tho recollection of his infatuation often made him wonder -where the widow was living, and what her elrcumstancae wore; and one day, about a

year later, ho dinod with bis friend Seaford, and asked for information. "I haven't tho slightest notion what has become of lur," Baid tho lawyer, "She left Hastings without giving mo hor new address-and, indeed, thoro wasnooccasion. She paid my bill," ho added, laughing. " Did her husband leavo hor pretty well off?" inquired tho doctor. " No, poor thing ! Ho left nothing but a policy of assurance for £5,000 and a small amount of furniture," said the lawyer, slipping his wine. Throo years passed, and Wynyard prospored. A neighbouring practitioner died, i and the young surgeon profited considerably by the sad event. He married awjfewho I possessed a comfortable income, arid, in short, he was generally regarded by' ms professional friends as an enviable md. i_t'chanced'that his wife bad relations in America, ode of whom died intestate. This was about' the time when tho doctor j was contemplating his annual holiday, and it was suggested that he should cross over to New York, ond combine business with pleasure by looking after the rights of his wife's family in regard to the estate of the deceased relative. The doctor readily undertook the mission for tbe sake of the trip, and, his wife having a-horror of sco voyages, ho went alone. . , Dr Wynyard's proceedings in America do not concern us in any way, with the exception ofonetriflingincidentwhichhappenedtohim when he had occasion to consult» New Yor_ lawyer, a Dr Weston, who invited in_-$o a dinner-party at his house. Then were several other gueßts, and in the course. the evening, at a small reception that Mrs Weston held after the'dinner, his host ca_« up to him and proposed to introduce him tC a compatriot who had just arrived.

" He has been making a boom upon our Bourse lately," explained the lawyer. "It is Baid that he gained two million dollars by a single transaction last week. Ho has only been here a year or two, and yet ho makes some of the knowing ones sit up." " What is his name ?" inquired Dr Wynyard. '' Ambrose Tucker. He will bo a millionaire." The doctor was duly presented to a quietlooking middle-aged Englishman in gold spectacles. Ho was a small man, wearing a scanty beard and moustache, and inclined to baldness. His appearance, upon tho whole, was rather prepossessing, and the doctor felt more inclined to fraternise than Englishmen who meet abroad usually

do. Mr Tucker, however, though perfectly civil, did not respond to Dr Wynyard's friendly advanced. After exchanging as few words as possible, he mado an excuse to move to the other side of the room, and shortly afterwards he took his departure. The door had no sooner closed behind him than the doctor, whoße face wore a puzzled and perturbed expression, suddenly brightened up, and ho addressed himself to his host.

•' Do you know anything about Mr Tucker's family ?" he inquired. " Has he a sister?—a M*s Burton?"

"Nobody knows much about Mr Tucker's j family," said the lawyer, with a humourous expression. "Hehas left them over the pond." " I wieh I had though* to oak him," sold Dr. Wynyard ; "ho mu_ be a brother of o lady I once knew. I nover saw such on extraordinary resemblance in my life— face, voice, eyes, and manner oven .' I could not at first think what made his features appear so familiar to me ; but I've just remembered whom he reminds me of." " Well, we'll ask him," soid tbe lawyer. "I will invite you to meet him bore aga'n." Dr. Wynyard was 80 very much struck by the resemblance between Mr Tucker and Mrs Burton that he almost convinced himself that they wero related. The fact of Mr Tucker boing an Englishman naturally gave some slight probability to this conjecture, though the chances were that it was a mere accidental likeness. Neverthele-a, Dr Wynyard felt curious to meet Mr Tuckor again, and went a second timo to dine with Dr. Weston for tho purpose. But Mr Tucker, at tho last moment, had to send an oxcuße, and so it happened that the doctor sailed for England without ever seeing him again. Oddly enough, Dr. Wynyard was destined to be reminded of Mre Burton tho first thing on his arrival in England, just as she bad been brought to his recollection tho last thing before he left America. On the day he reached home, his wifo informed him that his friend, Mr Soaford, the lawyer, had beon making particular inquiries os to the date of hia return, and that same evening tho lawyer called. " Sorry to bother you, old fellow, immediately upon your return, but some queer j facts have come to light concerning that j Mrs Burton you introduced to me a few j years ago," said the lawyer. j " What is the matter ?" inquired Dr. | Wynyard, with natural curiosity. j " I had a visit while you were away from 1 two brothers of the late Mr Burton," said ! Mr Seaford. " They had never heard of ; his death until recently, and had come up i from Nottingham. They found hia will at the Probate Office, and, as my name was upon it, they came to me." " So I suggested," said Mr Seaford, " and I produced her marriage certificate, which I happened to have among my papers. It was the certificate she handed to me herself." " What about ?" asked the doctor. " Well, in tbe first place, they disputed the signature," said the lawyer; " but I pointed out that you had witnessed it, and that tho signature of a sick man frequently differs from his ordinary handwriting." "I sow him sign it," said the doctor, unhesitatingly. "Quite so; but then they took a more serieus objection. They declare their brother wos a widower." "So he may have been, once. Eor I know this Mrs Burton was his second wife I dare say she was." " Well ?" "Well, the brothers swear that Clara Newcombe, the person named in the certificate, and who was married to their brother in 1876, died in 1879, and they have since furnished me with a certificate of her death. Here are both the certificates. You can inspect them." " It is singular, certainly," said tho doctor, scrutinising the documents, " but you know what women are. She made a mistake, and handed you the wrong certificate." " I'm afraid there was no mistake," said the lawyer, shaking his head. "It is a singular coincidence, assuming sho was the second wifo, that her name should be Clara —the same as the first wife's name." "It might happen," said Dr. Wynyard, starting, nevertheless. "Of course, it might: but it looks much more as though the weman, whoever she was, had passed herself off as somebody else. I believe the brothers are right, and that she was not the testator's wife at all," said the lawyer, gravely. "My dear fellow, I saw them daily for months. I have no doubt that she was hia wife. Why did he call her so in his will if she waan't? He knew well enough what he waß doing when he signed it, and I read it over to him first," said Dr. Wynyard, quite scornfully. " That is strange, certainly ; but I can't get over the certificate bueinees," Baid the lawyer. '• I wanted to ask what you really knew about the Burtons."

" Well, nothing," replied Dr. Wynyard, rathor reluctantly. " I attended them professionally for six or eight months. They neither volunteered nor did I ask for information about themselves."

" The brothers seem honestenougb,"Boid the lawyer, "regular yokels, but they declare they have been swindled. They hove given me a lot of papers, specimens of the deceased's handwriting, and so on. I don't know what will be the end of it all," added Mr Seaford, taking some documents from his side pocket. "Here is a portrait of the deceased which they gave me."

Dr Wynyard carelessly took up the photograph, which his friend threw upon the I table by his side, but having glanced at it he uttered a startled exclamation. " What is it ?" exclaimid the lawyer. "This isn't Mr Burton who died!" he ejaculated. " The brothers say so," replied hie friend. "It is no more like him than it is like you. Good hoavens ! It is—it is Mr Ambrose Tucker !" cried Dr Wynyard more and more amazed. " Who on earth is he ?' " Mrs Burton 1" cried the doctor, as the truth flashed upon his startled understanding. ■' I see it al\ Seaford. Ambrose Tucker, the man I met in New York, and Mrs Burton are the same person. He disguised himself as a woman " ■' Then, if that be so, Burton isn't dead at all," interposed the lawyer, quickly. " if this ia Burton," said Dr Wynward, emphatically, aa he pointed to tbe photograph, " I saw him the other day in Now York. What is more, I am convinced that the supposed Mrs Burton was the same person." j " Then who was the deceased ?" '

The tv ro friends stared at ono another blankly . for somo moments, and thon the lawyer sui Idenly rose from hia seat. "Wynyard, thero has been a barefaced swindle," lie said, impressively. "It was evidently _ plot conoocted by this man Burton to get possession of his own insurance money. Do you recollect tho legacy in tho will to Charlotte Emlin ?" '' Yea. Who wob she ?"

" The wife of John Eralin ; and I'll guarantee t_»t it was John Emlin who personated Barton,'* said Mr Seaford, excitedly. " When the woman came up to town to receive her legacy, I was struck by her manner.'