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Updated: May 17, 2025
Some delicately fine inscription was upon the dull gold of the inner rim of the miniature-frame, within the diamonds that surrounded it. Saxham deciphered: "Lucy, to Richard Mildare. For ever! 1879." The dull, dark crimson that had stained the Dop Doctor's opaque skin had given place to pallor. His face was sharp and thin, and of waxen whiteness, like the face of one newly dead.
The Dop Doctor made a slight sound that might have been of indifferent assent or of contradiction. The other chose to take it as assent. "Take the present situation, purely as football. They have picked me as a forward player. And I mean to play the game!" The Dop Doctor might or might not have heard. His square, impassive face looked as if carved in stone. "To play the game, Doctor.
"Come forward with us, Doctor. We can do with a man like you!" The impassive face broke up. Saxham gripped the offered hand as a drowning man might have done. He cried out hoarsely: "You don't know the sort of man I am, Colonel. But everybody else in this cursed place knows, or should know. They call me the Dop Doctor. You understand what that nickname implies?" He held out his shaking hands.
A matter of training and habit, because I began life as a short-sighted lad. Do we need your assistant further?" In indirect answer to the pointed question, the Dop Doctor turned to the Dutch dispensary-assistant, and said curtly: "Ga uit!" Koets went, not without a scowl at the visitor.
Then the Judge interposed, and the clapping of hands and thumping of stick and sunshade ferrules upon the dirty floor died down, and the Counsel for the Defence got up to plead for his man, who, by the way, he firmly believed to be guilty. That remembrance made the Dop Doctor merry again, this scorching night in Gueldersdorp, five years later.
You can see the Dop Doctor upon this brilliant November morning mounting a charger lent him by his friend, a handsome Waler full of mettle and spirit oats not being yet required for the support of humans and calling au revoir to Taggart as he rides away from the Hospital gates followed by an orderly of the R.A.M.C. in a spider, pulled by a wiry, shabby little Boer mare.
Nothing was left now but his loyalty to the friend who believed in him. If that man had not stood between Saxham and his despair, Gueldersdorp would have got back her Dop Doctor that night. For the Hospital stores included a cherished case or two of Martell and Kinahan, and all these things were under Saxham's hand. The heavy footsteps crashed out of hearing.
Saxham at the Hospital or elsewhere, metaphorically clothed and in his right mind, and in the active discharge of duties which no man, judging by your own testimony, is better fitted to perform, let him down gently." The Mayor, conscious of civic dignity and magisterial warnings from the Bench ignored, swelled obviously. "My dear sir, you can't let the Dop Doctor down anyhow.
The white feet would show no ugly stains, although to reach the bridal bed, towards which her husband now drew her, they must tread upon his brother's bleeding heart. The Dop Doctor lifted his head as the bell of the front door rang loudly at the back passage-end. Two mounted officers of the Military Staff at Gueldersdorp had trotted up the street with an orderly behind them a moment before.
She further stated she was a German subject, and that if her horse were not returned in three days she should write to the Kaiser. All this was repeated to General Snyman by the awestruck Veldtcornet. After a week spent with the Boers, Dop arrived back at Setlagoli, carefully led, as if she were a sacred beast, and bringing a humble letter of apology from the Commandant.
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