THE CROXLEY MASTER
A GREAT TALE OF THE PRIZE RING
BY
A. CONAN DOYLE
NEW YORKMcCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.MCMVII
Copyright, 1907, by McClure, Phillips & Co.
[3]
THE CROXLEY MASTER
I
MR. ROBERT MONTGOMERY wasseated at his desk, his head upon hishands, in a state of the blackest despondency.Before him was the open ledger with the longcolumns of Dr. Oldacre's prescriptions. Athis elbow lay the wooden tray with the labelsin various partitions, the cork box, the lumpsof twisted sealing-wax, while in front a rank ofempty bottles waited to be filled. But his spiritswere too low for work. He sat in silence, withhis fine shoulders bowed and his head upon hishands.
Outside, through the grimy surgery windowover a foreground of blackened brick and slate,a line of enormous chimneys like Cyclopeanpillars upheld the lowering, dun-coloured cloud-bank.For six days in the week they spoutedsmoke, but to-day the furnace fires were banked,for it was Sunday. Sordid and polluting gloomhung over a district blighted and blasted by thegreed of man. There was nothing in the surroundings[4]to cheer a desponding soul, but itwas more than his dismal environment whichweighed upon the medical assistant.
His trouble was deeper and more personal.The winter session was approaching. He shouldbe back again at the University completing thelast year which would give him his medical degree;but alas! he had not the money with whichto pay his class fees, nor could he imagine how hecould procure it. Sixty pounds were wanted tomake his career, and it might have been asmany thousands for any chance there seemed tobe of his obtaining it.
He was roused from his black meditation bythe entrance of Dr. Oldacre himself, a large,clean-shaven, respectable man, with a primmanner and an austere face. He had prosperedexceedingly by the support of the localChurch interest, and the rule of his life wasnever by word or action to run a risk of offendingthe sentiment which had made him. Hisstandard of respectability and of dignity wasexceedingly high, and he expected the samefrom his assistants. His appearance and wordswere always vaguely benevolent. A suddenimpulse came over the despondent student.He would test the reality of this philanthropy.
"I beg your pardon, Dr. Oldacre," said he,rising from his chair; "I have a great favourto ask of you."[5]
The doctor's appearance was not encouraging.His mouth suddenly tightened, and hiseyes fell.
"Yes, Mr. Montgomery?"
"You are aware, sir, that I need only onemore session to complete my course."
"So you have told me."
"It is very important to me, sir."
"Naturally."
"The fees, Dr. Oldacre, would amount toabout sixty pounds."
"I am afraid that my duties call me elsewhere,Mr. Montgomery."
"One moment, sir! I had hoped, sir, th