Chapter 11 2

During the period of her treatment, the amplitude of Mrs. Dempsey's manic-depressive cycle showed an appreciable decrease, and at no time after becoming my patient did she threaten to take her life or the lives of her children. She responds satisfactorily to competent psychotherapy, andwith continued treatment I believe her condition can be most adequately stabilized. When the Dempseys left Philadelphia I recommended that her treatment be continued if possible, but suggested to Mr. Dempsey that immediate resumption was not urgent. However, I also recommended that Mrs. Dempsey avoid pregnancy until completely cured, since her former pregnancies had been largely responsible for her condition.

I believe that an accidental pregnancy at this time will produce a critical recurrence of her despondency; that she will again threaten to take her life, rather than carry the fetus; and that she may very well carry out her threat even if psychiatric treatment were resumed at once, I unhesitatingly recommend, even urge, that for the protection of her other children and herself, Mrs. Dempsey's pregnancy be aborted at the earliest possible moment.

I signed the letter,"Harry L. Siegrist, M.D.," put it into an envelope, and hurried back to my car. I stopped along the road to eat lunch and bone up on the manic-depressive psychosis, and by shortly after three o'clock I was in a telephone booth in a Penn-Whelan drugstore on Walnut Street in Philadelphia, placing a long-distance call to Dr. Welleck in Wicomico. My hands shook; I sweated profusely. When I heard Dr. Welleck's receptionist answer, and the operator asked me to deposit sixty cents, I dropped a quarter on the floor: my courage barely sufficed to retrieve it and ask for Dr. Welleck.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Siegrist," the receptionist said after I'd introduced myself. "Dr. Welleck is at the hospital just now."

"Oh, that's too bad!" I exclaimed in gruff disappointment. "I don't suppose you could reach him?"

"I'm afraid not, sir; he's in surgery this afternoon."

"What a bother!" I was immensely relieved, almost joyous, that I wouldn't have to speak to him, but at the same time I feared for my plan.

"I'll have him call you as soon as he comes in, if you like."

"Oh, now, I'm afraid that won't do," I said peevishly. "My vacation started today, and Mrs. Siegrist and I will be in Bermuda all through October. Mr. Dempsey reached me just as we were closing up the house -- thank heaven! Another hour and we'd have been gone. You know, this is something of an emergency, but my plane leaves two hours from now and I couldn't say where I'll be between now and then. Dr. Welleckwill administer Ergotrate, won't he? This could turn into a nasty thing."

"He wanted to talk to you, Dr. Siegrist."

"I know, I know. Well, see here, I'll have my secretary type up an affidavit before I leave -- this is quite a routine thing, you know -- and I'll have it notarized and sent special delivery and all that. What a nuisance that I can't talk to Dr. Welleck personally!" I said with some heat. "I can't emphasize too much the seriousness of this sort of thing with a manic-depressive like Mrs. Dempsey. She could behave perfectly normally one moment and shoot herself the next, if she hasn't already. Really, Dr. Welleck should give her the Ergotrate at the earliest possible moment. Tonight if possible; tomorrow at the very latest. I've already arranged with Mr. Dempsey to place his wife under the care of one of my colleagues until I get back, but this thing really must be taken care of first."

"I'll tell Dr. Welleck at once," the receptionist said, clearly impressed.

"Please do, and he'll get the affidavit tomorrow morning."

"Could you give me your Bermuda address, sir, in case Dr. Welleck wants to get in touch with you?"

Great heavens! "Mrs. Siegrist and I will be stopping at the Prince George Hotel," I said, hoping there was such a place.

"The Prince George. Thank you, sir."

"And please, tell Dr. Welleck to get that Ergotrate into Mrs. Dempsey as soon as he can. I'd hate to lose a patient over something as silly as this. I don't blame the man for being cautious, but I must say that if it were I, she'd be aborted by this time. A layman could tell she's manic-depressive, and her suicidal tendencies stick out all over. Good-by, now."

I hung up, and very nearly fainted. A big obstacle was behind me, but there was a still bigger one ahead. I found a notary public in a loan office two blocks down Walnut Street (which I prayed Dr. Siegrist didn't happen to patronize) and went in quickly before my nerve failed. It is my lot to look older than my years, but I could scarcely believe anyone would seriously take me for a certified psychiatrist. Besides, it is even more difficult to act out a fiction face to face with the man you're lying to than it is to do it on the telephone. Finally, I wasn't at all sure that notaries didn't demand identification before administering the oath and seal. Assuming the most worldly manner I could muster, I asked a clerk where the notary public was, and he directed me to the assistant manager's desk across the room.

"Howdy do," smiled the assistant manager, a squat, bald-headed, cigar-chewing little man with steel-rimmed glasses.

"My name's Siegrist," I said genially: "Harry Siegrist. I've a paper here somewhere to be notarized, if I haven't left it at the office." I smiled whimsically and made a leisurely search of my pockets. "Oh yes, here you are, you little rascal." I fetched the letter from my inside coat pocket, opened it, and casually scanned it. "Mmm-hmm. There you go, sir."

The assistant manager read the document carelessly.

"Boy oh boy," he said. "She's a real bat, isn't she, Doc?"

"Oh, not as bad as some we get," I chuckled, so pleased I could have died. "Life is just one lunatic after another."

"Ha!" said the notary. "You ought to see some of the boobies we get in here. You could make a fortune."

"I'll bet."

I waited to be asked for my credentials.

"I swear," the notary mused absently, reading my letter again, "I think it's all in their heads. Well --"

He began fumbling in his desk drawer. "Raise your right hand a little bit, will you, Doc?"

I did, and he likewise.

"Now, then, d'you swear before God that the blah blah blah blah and all that?" he asked, still digging around in his desk with the other hand.

"I do."

"Won't make no difference whether you do or not if I can't find my seal," he said cheerfully. My head reeled -- after my good luck in finding a notary as cynical as he was credulous, could my scheme hang on such a mischance as this?

"Ah, there she blows," he said, fishing out the seal. He clamped the official impression on my letter and signed it. Then he called two nearby clerks over to sign as witnesses. "Don't mind reading it," he told them. "Where would American business be today if everybody read things before they signed them? Just put your John Hancock where it says." They did. "All right, Doctor: buck and a half."

I paid him with a bill from my wallet, holding my identity card from view, and left with my letter, which I dropped into the first deposit box I encountered. So much for Philadelphia -- it was four o'clock, and I had to get home fast. In general I was amazed at the success of my plan, but four distressing things were on my mind. First, I had no idea whether Dr. Welleck would be convinced by my completely non-technical affidavit, which for all I knew any M.D. might be able to recognize as spurious at first glance; at any rate, it was entirely possible that if any doubt remained in his mind the coincidence of Dr. Siegrist's taking so immediate a vacation might turn that doubt into frank skepticism: should Welleck at any time be dubious enough to call the office of the real Dr. Siegrist, the jig was up. Second, I had deliberately not left a telephone number with Welleck, and of course there was no Henry Dempsey in the Wicomico directory; despite the fact that there are human beings without telephones, Welleck's inability to reach me, should he try before I got home and called him, could add to his suspicion. The third unknown was even more worrisome: even if everything else worked out perfectly and Welleck consented to administer the Ergotrate, it was quite possible that he was not new in town at all and might know Rennie. Finally, even if he didn't, there was one more danger: so innocent was I of the business of abortion that, for all I knew, Welleck might require that Rennie go to the hospital for something or other, since the thing was going to be legal, and even if Welleck himself didn't know her, someone at the hospital surely would.