The Mouthpiece of Zitu
By J. U. Giesy
A Complete Novel
Sequel to "Palos of the Dog Star Pack"
Copyright 1919 by The Frank A. Munsey Company.
This story was published in The All-Story Weekly,
serially, beginning July 5, 1919.
CHAPTER I
THE NEW PATIENT
I took my stethoscope and went over the patient's chest. I wanted todetermine his general condition, since he was now committed to my careas medical director of the State Hospital for the Insane. He hadstruck me as being in a rather bad way when he was brought in from thecapital city farther north. It was part of my professional duty tolook out for his physical welfare as well as endeavor to set right hisdistorted brain.
I had one of the nurses remove the hospital garment into which he hadbeen put, and then I set the disk of my instrument over the regionof his heart. It was bad, very bad indeed. The burr and whisper ofits labored action came through his emaciated flesh with surprisingloudness. I frowned and went on to the lungs, and found them sufferingfrom the effects of that faulty circulation.
A dissociation of personality had been alleged by the physicians whohad sent him into my hands. In other words, the man was supposed notto know who he was—to have lost his true identity, or be confusedabout it in his own mind. But the case was not violent, had given noindications of any wish to work harm to any one about him. Indeed, theentire course until now had been of a melancholic turn.
I finished my examination and straightened, and met the regard of hiseyes. They were a very dark brown, and they were fixed intently on myface. What was more, they gave me one of the oddest sensations I hadever had in my life.
I had never seen the man before. Of that I was positive. And yet asI met the steady glance he held upon me, I felt that I knew thoseeyes—the eyes, mind you—or what was behind them—looking out asthrough a window in a darkened house. I'm not sure, but I think Icaught my breath.
"Send the nurse away, will you, Dr. Murray?"
For the first time during my examination the patient spoke, and thesound of it was almost like a half-checked laugh. It was as though theman felt a perfectly sane and understanding amusement in the situationin which he found himself.
Then as I hesitated, more in surprise than from any other reason, hewent on: "Oh, I'll not be violent or try to escape, or anything likethat. I merely want to talk to you—yourself."
I nodded to the attendant, who left the room, and turned back once moreto encounter those strangely familiar eyes.
"Don't you know me, Dr. Murray?" their owner inquired.
"I never saw you before," I said, determined to meet this phase of theman's condition, whatever it was, in as natural a way as I might. "Andyet—" Right there I paused.
"And yet—you aren't sure about the denial even while you make it."He laughed without any sound. Insane in a mild way he might be, buthe certainly seemed to know what he was saying and to be enjoying thesomewhat puzzled expression which I fancy must have shown upon my face."Murray, you're both right and wrong. You've never seen this body, sofar as I know, but I hardly think you've forgotten Jason Croft."
"Croft! Good Heavens!"
The words dribbled off my lips. I gasped. Now I knew what it was aboutthose eyes that held me. Croft I had not forgotten, but—so far asearth was concerned—he had died; I had pronounced him dead myself;had seen his body consigned to the grave. And it had been the body ofa splendidly proportioned man—no such pitiful physical wreck as thisfigure in the bed.
But it had been Jason Croft who had given to me what as nearly amountedto