the Incredible Erskine,
isn’t it?”
“It certainly
is,” I told her. “I have an appointment with Dr. Hughes.”
She buzzed his
office, and then directed me to the eighteenth floor. I rose in the warm,
hushed elevator, and emerged into a thick-carpeted corridor. A shingle above
the door in front of me read dr. j. h. hughes , and I
knocked.
Dr. Hughes was
a small, weary man who looked as though he needed a weekend in the mountains.
“Mr. Erskine?”
he said, limply shaking my hand. “Take a seat. Coffee? Or I have something stronger if you prefer it.”
“Coffee is
terrific.”
He bleeped his
secretary to fetch us drinks, and then he sat back in his big black swivel
armchair and laced his hands behind his head.
“I’ve been
dealing with tumors for a good many years now, Mr. Erskine, and I’ve seen them
all.
I’m supposed to
be an expert in my field. But I can tell you straight out that I’ve never seen
a case like Karen Tandy’s, and I’m frankly bewildered by it.”
I lit a
cigarette. “What’s so special about it?”
“The tumor
isn’t the normal kind of tumor. Without going into too much grisly detail, it
doesn’t have any of the usual characteristics of tumorous tissue. What she has
there is a fast-growing swelling made of both skin and bone. In some ways, you
could almost describe the tumor as being like a fetus.”
“You mean – a
baby? You mean she’s having a baby – in her neck? I don’t understand you.”
Dr. Hughes
shrugged. “Neither do I, Mr. Erskine. There are
thousands of recorded cases of fetuses growing in the wrong place. In the fallopian tube for example, or in various kinds of
annexations of the womb. But there is no precedent for any sort of fetus
growing in the neck area, and there is certainly no precedent for any sort of
fetus growing as fast as this one.”
“Didn’t you
operate on her this morning? I thought you were going to remove it.”
Dr. Hughes shook
his head. “That was the intention. We had her on the operating table, and
everything was lined up for its removal. But as soon as the
surgeon, Dr. Snaith, started making an incision, her pulse-rate and respiration
weakened so drastically that we had to stop. Another two or three
minutes and she would have died. We had to satisfy ourselves with more X-rays.”
“Was there any
reason for this?” I asked him. “I mean, why did she get so sick?”
“I don’t know,”
said Dr. Hughes. “I’m having a series of tests run on her right now, which will
maybe give us the answer. But I’ve never come across anything like it before,
and I’m as mystified as anyone else.”
Dr. Hughes’
secretary brought us in a couple of cups of coffee and some biscuits. We sipped
in silence for a while, and then I asked Dr. Hughes the 64,000 dollar question.
“Dr. Hughes,” I
said. “Do you believe in black magic?”
He stared at me
thoughtfully.
“No,” he said.
“I don’t.”
“I don’t
either,” I replied. “But there’s something about this whole business that
strikes me as completely weird. You see, Karen Tandy’s aunt is also a client of
mine, and she has had the same kind of dream as Karen. Not so detailed, not so
frightening – but definitely the same kind of dream.”
“Well?” asked
Dr. Hughes. “What does that suggest to you – as a clairvoyant?”
I looked at the
floor. “I’ll confess to you here and now, Dr. Hughes, that I’m not a serious
clairvoyant. It’s my living, if you know what I mean. Usually I’m pretty
skeptical about spirits and the occult. But it does seem to me that there’s
some kind of outside influence causing Karen Tandy’s condition. In other words,
something is making her dream these dreams, and maybe it’s the same thing
that’s affecting her tumor and her health.”
Dr. Hughes was
suspicious. “Are you trying to tell me she’s possessed? Like The Exorcist or
something?”
“No, I don’t
think so. I don’t believe in that kind of demon. But I do
isn’t it?”
“It certainly
is,” I told her. “I have an appointment with Dr. Hughes.”
She buzzed his
office, and then directed me to the eighteenth floor. I rose in the warm,
hushed elevator, and emerged into a thick-carpeted corridor. A shingle above
the door in front of me read dr. j. h. hughes , and I
knocked.
Dr. Hughes was
a small, weary man who looked as though he needed a weekend in the mountains.
“Mr. Erskine?”
he said, limply shaking my hand. “Take a seat. Coffee? Or I have something stronger if you prefer it.”
“Coffee is
terrific.”
He bleeped his
secretary to fetch us drinks, and then he sat back in his big black swivel
armchair and laced his hands behind his head.
“I’ve been
dealing with tumors for a good many years now, Mr. Erskine, and I’ve seen them
all.
I’m supposed to
be an expert in my field. But I can tell you straight out that I’ve never seen
a case like Karen Tandy’s, and I’m frankly bewildered by it.”
I lit a
cigarette. “What’s so special about it?”
“The tumor
isn’t the normal kind of tumor. Without going into too much grisly detail, it
doesn’t have any of the usual characteristics of tumorous tissue. What she has
there is a fast-growing swelling made of both skin and bone. In some ways, you
could almost describe the tumor as being like a fetus.”
“You mean – a
baby? You mean she’s having a baby – in her neck? I don’t understand you.”
Dr. Hughes
shrugged. “Neither do I, Mr. Erskine. There are
thousands of recorded cases of fetuses growing in the wrong place. In the fallopian tube for example, or in various kinds of
annexations of the womb. But there is no precedent for any sort of fetus
growing in the neck area, and there is certainly no precedent for any sort of
fetus growing as fast as this one.”
“Didn’t you
operate on her this morning? I thought you were going to remove it.”
Dr. Hughes shook
his head. “That was the intention. We had her on the operating table, and
everything was lined up for its removal. But as soon as the
surgeon, Dr. Snaith, started making an incision, her pulse-rate and respiration
weakened so drastically that we had to stop. Another two or three
minutes and she would have died. We had to satisfy ourselves with more X-rays.”
“Was there any
reason for this?” I asked him. “I mean, why did she get so sick?”
“I don’t know,”
said Dr. Hughes. “I’m having a series of tests run on her right now, which will
maybe give us the answer. But I’ve never come across anything like it before,
and I’m as mystified as anyone else.”
Dr. Hughes’
secretary brought us in a couple of cups of coffee and some biscuits. We sipped
in silence for a while, and then I asked Dr. Hughes the 64,000 dollar question.
“Dr. Hughes,” I
said. “Do you believe in black magic?”
He stared at me
thoughtfully.
“No,” he said.
“I don’t.”
“I don’t
either,” I replied. “But there’s something about this whole business that
strikes me as completely weird. You see, Karen Tandy’s aunt is also a client of
mine, and she has had the same kind of dream as Karen. Not so detailed, not so
frightening – but definitely the same kind of dream.”
“Well?” asked
Dr. Hughes. “What does that suggest to you – as a clairvoyant?”
I looked at the
floor. “I’ll confess to you here and now, Dr. Hughes, that I’m not a serious
clairvoyant. It’s my living, if you know what I mean. Usually I’m pretty
skeptical about spirits and the occult. But it does seem to me that there’s
some kind of outside influence causing Karen Tandy’s condition. In other words,
something is making her dream these dreams, and maybe it’s the same thing
that’s affecting her tumor and her health.”
Dr. Hughes was
suspicious. “Are you trying to tell me she’s possessed? Like The Exorcist or
something?”
“No, I don’t
think so. I don’t believe in that kind of demon. But I do
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