I

It is an open question how freely an obstetrician should talk to the husband of his patient. Dr. Holdman Stedding erred perhaps on the communicative side. It may be he should have realized more promptly that Mr. Joseph Davis was troubled in his imagination, and he should have exercised more care than he did in avoiding topics that might intensify his imaginative disturbance. Yet it may be pleaded in extenuation that it was Mr. Davis who started the subject of these mysterious extra–terrestrial radiations and that it was Dr. Holdman Stedding who was taken by surprise with a novel idea. He too had his imaginative side. He liked novel ideas and there was just that streak of scientific curiosity and communicativeness in him which impairs discretion.

He was a stout, large–faced, warmish–blond man, always a little out of breath and always with a faint flavour of surprise in his expression. And he liked to be made to laugh. His mouth was always just a little open, as if ready to laugh. But he knew his work marvellously well; he had strong and skilful hands and he never got flurried.

Davis had called on him before. He had wanted to have an exact account of the health of his wife, Was she strong enough to bear a child? She was as strong, said Dr. Holdman Stedding, 'as a young pony.'

The way in which Davis beat about that idea that things were not quite right with his wife gave the good doctor a queer feeling that a less reassuring reply would have been more acceptable. For obscure reasons—sub–reasons rather—it seemed that Davis did not want this child.

Like every practising obstetrician Dr. Holdman Stedding knew all the faint intimations of a tentative to abortion, and knew how to nip any such suggestion in the bud. Panic before fatherhood is a more frequent thing than the lay mind realizes. It is constantly peeping out in these consultations. Davis, if such had been his disposition, had departed unsatisfied. But here he was again.

'I suppose everything is going all right with Mary?' he asked, advancing uneasily into the consulting–room.

'Couldn't be better.'

'You made a second examination?'

'At your request. It was unnecessary.'

'There is nothing unusual….?' Mr. Davis rephrased his question. 'The child, the embryo, so far as you can ascertain, is not different in any way from any other child at the same stage?'

'It is coming on well. There is absolutely no ground for worry.'

'And the mother—physically and mentally. You are sure she can stand this? Because you know, say what you like, she is not a normal woman.'

'Do sit down,' said the doctor, recapturing the hearth–rug by putting his visitor into a chair, and then standing over him. 'Don't you think, Mr. Davis, that you are—just a trifle fanciful about your wife?'

'Well,' said Davis, sticking to his point, 'is she normal?'

‘Few women in her condition remain as sane and healthy as she is. If that is abnormal. Her mind like her body is as sound as a bell.'

'You don't think a woman can be too sane? I confess, Dr. Stedding, I don't always understand my wife. There is a sort of hard scepticism in her mind … You don't think a woman can be too intelligent to make a good mother?'

'Really, Mr. Davis! What's fretting your mind? With her clearheadedness and your literary genius your child may be something quite outstanding.'

'And that is what bothers me. The fact of it is, Doctor, I've been hearing talk lately…. I don't know if you know Foxfield and his work…. I take a scientific interest in this as well as a personal one…. The point is—'