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Fettes was an old drunken Scotchman； a man of education
obviously； and a man of some property； since he lived in
idleness。 He had come to Debenham years ago； while still
young； and by a mere continuance of living had grown to be an
adopted townsman。 His blue camlet cloak was a local
antiquity； like the church…spire。 His place in the parlour
at the George； his absence from church； his old； crapulous；
disreputable vices； were all things of course in Debenham。
He had some vague Radical opinions and some fleeting
infidelities； which he would now and again set forth and
emphasise with tottering slaps upon the table。 He drank rum
… five glasses regularly every evening； and for the greater
portion of his nightly visit to the George sat； with his
glass in his right hand； in a state of melancholy alcoholic
saturation。 We called him the Doctor； for he was supposed to
have some special knowledge of medicine； and had been known；
upon a pinch； to set a fracture or reduce a dislocation； but
beyond these slight particulars； we had no knowledge of his
character and antecedents。
One dark winter night … it had struck nine some time before
the landlord joined us … there was a sick man in the George；
a great neighbouring proprietor suddenly struck down with
apoplexy on his way to Parliament； and the great man's still
greater London doctor had been telegraphed to his bedside。
It was the first time that such a thing had happened in
Debenham； for the railway was but newly open； and we were all
proportionately moved by the occurrence。
'He's come；' said the landlord； after he had filled and
lighted his pipe。
'He？' said I。 'Who？ … not the doctor？'
'Himself；' replied our host。
'What is his name？'
'Doctor Macfarlane；' said the landlord。
Fettes was far through his third tumbler； stupidly fuddled；
now nodding over； now staring mazily around him； but at the
last word he seemed to awaken； and repeated the name
'Macfarlane' twice； quietly enough the first time； but with
sudden emotion at the second。
'Yes；' said the landlord； 'that's his name； Doctor Wolfe
Macfarlane。'
Fettes became instantly sober； his eyes awoke； his voice
became clear； loud； and steady； his language forcible and
earnest。 We were all startled by the transformation； as if a
man had risen from the dead。
'I beg your pardon；' he said； 'I am afraid I have not been
paying much attention to your talk。 Who is this Wolfe
Macfarlane？' And then； when he had heard the landlord out；
'It cannot be； it cannot be；' he added； 'and yet I would like
well to see him face to face。'
'Do you know him； Doctor？' asked the undertaker； with a gasp。
'God forbid！' was the reply。 'And yet the name is a strange
one； it were too much to fancy two。 Tell me； landlord； is he
old？'
'Well；' said the host； 'he's not a young man； to be sure； and
his hair is white； but he looks younger than you。'
'He is older； though； years older。 But；' with a slap upon
the table； 'it's the rum you see in my face … rum and sin。
This man； perhaps； may have an easy conscience and a good
digestion。 Conscience！ Hear me speak。 You would think I
was some good； old； decent Christian； would you not？ But no；
not I； I never canted。 Voltaire might have canted if he'd
stood in my shoes； but the brains' … with a rattling fillip
on his bald head … 'the brains were clear and active； and I
saw and made no deductions。'
'If you know this doctor；' I ventured to remark； after a
somewhat awful pause； 'I should gather that you do not share
the landlord's good opinion。'
Fettes paid no regard to me。
'Yes；' he said； with sudden decision； 'I must see him face to
face。'
There was another pause； and then a door was closed rather
sharply on the first floor； and a step was heard upon the
stair。
'That's the doctor；' cried the landlord。 'Look sharp； and
you can catch him。'
It was but two steps from the small parlour to the door of
the old George Inn； the wide oak staircase landed almost in
the street； there was room for a Turkey rug and nothing more
between the threshold and the last round of the descent； but
this little space was every evening brilliantly lit up； not
only by the light upon the stair and the great signal…lamp
below the sign； but by the warm radiance of the bar…room
window。 The George thus brightly advertised itself to
passers…by in the cold street。 Fettes walked steadily to the
spot； and we； who were hanging behind； beheld the two men
meet； as one of them had phrased it； face to face。 Dr。
Macfarlane was alert and vigorous。 His white hair set off
his pale and placid； although energetic； countenance。 He was
richly dressed in the finest of broadcloth and the whitest of
linen； with a great gold watch…chain； and studs and
spectacles of the same precious material。 He wore a broad…
folded tie； white and speckled with lilac； and he carried on
his arm a comfortable driving…coat of fur。 There was no
doubt but he became his years； breathing； as he did； of
wealth and consideration； and it was a surprising contrast to
see our parlour sot … bald； dirty； pimpled； and robed in his
old camlet cloak … confront him at the bottom of the stairs。
'Macfarlane！' he said somewhat loudly； more like a herald
than a friend。
The great doctor pulled up short on the fourth step； as
though the familiarity of the address surprised and somewhat
shocked his dignity。
'Toddy Macfarlane！' repeated Fettes。
The London man almost staggered。 He stared for the swiftest
of seconds at the man before him； glanced behind him with a
sort of scare； and then in a startled whisper； 'Fettes！' he
said； 'You！'
'Ay；' said the other； 'me！ Did you think I was dead too？ We
are not so easy shut of our acquaintance。'
'Hush； hush！' exclaimed the doctor。 'Hush； hush！ this
meeting is so unexpected … I can see you are unmanned。 I
hardly knew you； I confess； at first； but I am overjoyed …
overjoyed to have this opportunity。 For the present it must
be how…d'ye…do and good…bye in one； for my fly is waiting；
and I must not fail the train； but you shall … let me see …
yes … you shall give me your address； and you can count on
early news of me。 We must do something for you； Fettes。 I
fear you are out at elbows； but we must see to that for auld
lang syne； as once we sang at suppers。'
'Money！' cried Fettes； 'money from you！ The money that I had
from you is lying where I cast it in the rain。'
Dr。 Macfarlane had talked himself into some measure of
superiority and confidence； but the uncommon energy of this
refusal cast him back into his first confusion。
A horrible； ugly look came and went across his almost
venerable countenance。 'My dear fellow；' he said； 'be it as
you please； my last thought is to offend you。 I would
intrude on none。 I will leave you my address； however … '
'I do not wish it … I do not wi