Other papers were quick to copy and enlarge upon
its substance, taking the cue it offered, and commencing a series of
"faked" interviews which fairly ran the gamut of derogatory fantasy. In
no case, however, did the doctor condescend to offer a contradiction. He had no time to waste on fools and liars, and cared little for
the esteem of a thoughtless rabble he despised. When James Dalton
telegraphed his regrets and offered aid, Clarendon replied with an
almost boorish curtness. He did not heed the barking of dogs, and could
not bother to muzzle them. Nor would he thank anyone for messing with a
matter wholly beneath notice. Silent and contemptuous, he continued his
duties with tranquil evenness. But the young reporter's spark had done its work. San Francisco was
insane again, and this time as much with rage as with fear. Sober
judgment became a lost art; and though no second exodus occurred,
there ensued a reign of vice and recklessness born of desperation, and
suggesting parallel phenomena in mediæval times of pestilence. Hatred
ran riot against the man who had found the disease and was struggling
to restrain it, and a light-headed public forgot his great services
to knowledge in their efforts to fan the flames of resentment. They
seemed, in their blindness, to hate him in person, rather than the
plague which had come to their breeze-cleaned and usually healthy city. Then the young reporter, playing in the Neronic fire he had kindled,
added a crowning personal touch of his own. Remembering the indignities
he had suffered at the hands of the cadaverous clinic-man, he prepared
a masterly article on the home and environment of Dr. Clarendon, giving
especial prominence to Surama, whose very aspect he declared sufficient
to scare the healthiest person into any sort of fever. He tried to
make the gaunt chuckler appear equally ridiculous and terrible,
succeeding best, perhaps, in the latter half of his intention, since
a tide of horror always welled up whenever he thought of his brief
proximity to the creature. He collected all the rumors current about
the man, elaborated on the unholy depth of his reputed scholarship,
and hinted darkly that it could have been no godly realm of secret and
eon-weighted Africa wherein Dr. Clarendon had found him. Georgina, who followed the papers closely, felt crushed and hurt by
these attacks upon her brother, but James Dalton, who called often
at the house, did his best to comfort her. In this he was warm and
sincere; for he wished not only to console the woman he loved, but
to utter some measure of the reverence he had always felt for the
starward-bound genius who had been his youth's closest comrade. He told
Georgina how greatness can never be exempted from the shafts of envy,
and cited the long, sad list of splendid brains crushed beneath vulgar
heels. The attacks, he pointed out, formed the truest of all proofs of
Alfred's solid eminence. "But they hurt just the same," she rejoined, "and all the more because
I know that Al really suffers from them, no matter how indifferent he
tries to be." Dalton kissed her hand in a manner not then obsolete among well-born
persons. "And it hurts me a thousand times more, knowing that it hurts you and
Alf. But never mind, Georgie, we'll stand together and pull through it!" *       *       *       *       *

Thus it came about that Georgina came more and more to rely on the
strength of the steel-firm, square-jawed governor who had been her
youthful swain, and more and more to confide in him the things she
feared. The press attacks and the epidemic were not quite all. There
were aspects of the household which she did not like. Surama, cruel
in equal measure to man and beast, filled her with the most unnamable
repulsion; and she could not but feel that he meant some vague,
indefinable harm to Alfred. She did not like the Tibetans, either, and
thought it very peculiar that Surama was able to talk with them. Alfred
would not tell her who or what Surama was, but had once explained
rather haltingly that he was a much older man than would be commonly
thought credible, and that he had mastered secrets and been through
experiences calculated to make him a colleague of phenomenal value for
any scientist seeking nature's hidden mysteries. Urged by her uneasiness, Dalton became a still more frequent visitor at
the Clarendon home, though he saw that his presence was deeply resented
by Surama. The bony clinic-man formed the habit of glaring peculiarly
from those spectral sockets when admitting him, and would often,
after closing the gate when he left, chuckle monotonously in a manner
that made his flesh creep. Meanwhile Dr. Clarendon seemed oblivious
of everything save his work at San Quentin, whither he went each day
in his launch--alone save for Surama, who managed the wheel while
the doctor read or collated his notes. Dalton welcomed these regular
absences, for they gave him constant opportunities to renew his suit
for Georgina's hand. When he would overstay and meet Alfred, however,
the latter's greeting was always friendly despite his habitual reserve. In time the engagement of James and Georgina grew to be a definite
thing, and the two awaited only a favorable chance to speak to Alfred. The governor, whole-souled in everything and firm in his protective
loyalty, spared no pains in spreading propaganda on his old friend's
behalf. Press and officialdom both felt his influence, and he even
succeeded in interesting scientists in the East, many of whom came
to California to study the plague and investigate the anti-fever
bacillus which Clarendon was so rapidly isolating and perfecting. These doctors and biologists, however, did not obtain the information
they wished; so that several of them left with a very unfortunate
impression. Not a few prepared articles hostile to Clarendon, accusing
him of an unscientific and fame-seeking attitude, and intimating that
he concealed his methods through a highly unprofessional desire for
ultimate personal profit. Others, fortunately, were more liberal in their judgments, and
wrote enthusiastically of Clarendon and his work. They had seen the
patients, and could appreciate how marvelously he held the dread
disease in leash. His secrecy regarding the antitoxin they deemed
quite justifiable, since its public diffusion in unperfected form
could not but do more harm than good. Clarendon himself, whom many of
their number had met before, impressed them more profoundly than ever,
and they did not hesitate to compare him with Jenner, Lister, Koch,
Pasteur, Metchnikoff, and the rest of those whose whole lives have
served pathology and humanity. Dalton was careful to save for Alfred
all the magazines that spoke well of him, often bringing them in person
as an excuse to see Georgina.