"Yes, murdered--sacrificed to the utter incompetence of that old idiot
who has just left us."
Philip Sheldon drew a long breath.
"What!" he exclaimed; "do you doubt Doddleson's skill?"
"Do you believe in it? Do you? No; I cannot think that a man of your keen
perception in all other matters--half a medical man yourself--can be the
dupe of so shallow an impostor. And it is to that man's judgment my
darling's life has been confided; and it is to that man I have looked,
with hope and comfort in the thought of his power to save my treasure!
Good God! what a reed on which to rely! And of all the medical men of
London, this is the one you have chosen!"
"I must really protest against this rant, Hawkehurst," said Philip
Sheldon. "I hold myself responsible for the selection which I made, and
will not have that selection questioned in this violent and outrageous
manner by you. Your anxiety for Charlotte's recovery may excuse a great
deal, but it cannot excuse this kind of thing; and if you cannot command
yourself better, I must beg you to absent yourself from my house until my
stepdaughter's recovery puts an end to all this fuss."
"Do you believe in Dr. Doddleson's skill?" asked Valentine doggedly. He
wanted to have that question answered at any cost.
"Most decidedly I do, with the rest of the medical world. My choice of
this gentleman as Charlotte's adviser was governed by his reputation as a
safe and conscientious man.
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