“You make out rather a strong case,” said Doctor Hillhouse.

“Too strong, do you think?”

“Perhaps not.  Looking at the thing through your eyes, Mr. Carlton, moderate drinking is an evil of great magnitude.”

“It is assuredly, and far greater, as I have said, than is generally supposed.  The children of this world are very wise, and some of them, I am sorry to add, very unscrupulous in gaining their ends.  They know the power of all the agencies that are around them, and do not scruple to make use of whatever comes to their hand.  Three or four capitalists are invited to meet at a gentleman’s house to consider some proposition he has to lay before them.  They are liberally supplied with wine, and drink without a lurking suspicion of what the service of good wine means.  They see in it only the common hospitality of the day, and fail to notice that one or two of the company never empty their glasses.  On the next day these men will most likely feel some doubt as to the prudence of certain large subscriptions made on the previous afternoon or evening, and wonder how they could have been so infatuated as to put money into a scheme that promised little beyond a permanent investment.

“If,” added Mr. Carlton, “we could come at any proximate estimate of the loss which falls upon society in consequence of the moderate use of intoxicating drinks, we would find that it exceeded a hundred—­nay, a thousand—­fold that of the losses sustained through drunkenness.  Against the latter society is all the while seeking to guard itself, against the former it has little or no protection—­does not, in fact, comprehend the magnitude of its power for evil.  But I have wearied you with my talk, and forgotten for the time being the anxiety that lies so near my heart.  No, doctor, I will not trust the hand of Doctor Kline, skillful as it may be, to do this work; for I cannot be sure that a glass too much may not have been taken to steady the nerves a night’s excess of wine may have left unstrung.”

Doctor Hillhouse sat with closely knit brows for some time after Mr. Carlton ceased speaking.

“There is matter for grave consideration in what you have said,” he remarked, at length, “though I apprehend your fears in regard to Doctor Kline are more conjectural than real.”

“I hope so,” returned Mr. Carlton, “but as a prudent man I will not take needless risk in the face of danger.  If an operation cannot be avoided, I will trust that precious life to none but you.”

CHAPTER XVII.

We have seen how it was with Doctor Hillhouse on the morning of the day fixed for the operation.  The very danger that Mr. Carlton sought to avert in his rejection of Doctor Kline was at his door.  Not having attended the party at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell’s, he did not know that Doctor Hillhouse had, with most of the company, indulged freely in wine.  If a suspicion of the truth had come to him, he would have refused to let the operation proceed.  But like a passenger in some swiftly-moving car who has faith in the clear head and steady hand of the engineer, his confidence in Doctor Hillhouse gave him a feeling of security.