"A. E. Merritt - Burn, Witch, Burn!" - читать интересную книгу автора (Merritt A. E)

He acquiesced, though I could see he was not entirely satisfied. I had the patient taken to an isolated
private room, and went through the necessary hospital formalities. Ricori gave the man's name as Thomas
Peters, asserted that he knew of no close relations, had himself recorded at Peters' nearest friend,
assumed all responsibility, and taking out a roll of currency, skimmed a thousand dollar bill from it,
passing it to the desk as "preliminary costs."

I asked Ricori if he would like to be present at my examination. He said that he would. He spoke to his
two men, and they took positions at each side of the hospital doors--on guard. Ricori and I went to the
room assigned to the patient. The orderlies had stripped him, and he lay upon the adjustable cot, covered
by a sheet. Braile, for whom I had sent, was bending over Peters, intent upon his face, and plainly
puzzled. I saw with satisfaction that Nurse Walters, an unusually capable and conscientious young
woman, had been assigned to the case. Braile looked up at me. He said: "Obviously some drug."

"Maybe," I answered. "But if so then a drug I have never encountered. Look at his eyes--"

I closed Peters' lids. As soon as I had lifted my fingers they began to rise, slowly, until they were again
wide open. Several times I tried to shut them. Always they opened: the terror, the horror in them,
undiminished.

I began my examination. The entire body was limp, muscles and joints. It was as flaccid, the simile came
to me, as a doll. It was as though every motor nerve had gone out of business. Yet there was none of the
familiar symptoms of paralysis. Nor did the body respond to any sensory stimulus, although I struck
down into the nerve trunks. The only reaction I could obtain was a slight contraction of the dilated pupils
under strongest light.

Hoskins, the pathologist, came in to take his samples for blood tests. When he had drawn what he
wanted, I went over the body minutely. I could find not a single puncture, wound, bruise or abrasion.
Peters was hairy. With Ricori's permission, I had him shaved clean-chest, shoulders, legs, even the head.
I found nothing to indicate that a drug might have been given him by hypodermic. I had the stomach
emptied and took specimens from the excretory organs, including the skin. I examined the membranes of
nose and throat: they seemed healthy and normal; nevertheless, I had smears taken from them. The blood
pressure was low, the temperature slightly subnormal; but that might mean nothing. I gave an injection of
adrenaline. There was absolutely no reaction from it. That might mean much.

"Poor devil," I said to myself. "I'm going to try to kill that nightmare for you, at any rate."

I gave him a minimum hypo of morphine. It might have been water for all the good it did. Then I gave him
all I dared. His eyes remained open, terror and horror undiminished. And pulse and respiration
unchanged.

Ricori had watched all these operations with intense interest. I had done all I could for the time, and told
him so.

"I can do no more," I said, "until I receive the reports of the specimens. Frankly, I am all at sea. I know
of no disease nor drug which would produce these conditions."

"But Dr. Braile," he said, "mentioned a drug--"

"A suggestion only," interposed Braile hastily. "Like Dr. Lowell, I know of no drug which would cause
such symptoms."