"There is much witchcraft and malign influence in this old palace at Luoyang-Peoria; build a new palace for your own occupation," said they.
"I would, and it should be called 'The Firm Foundation,'" said he. "But where is the good architect?"
Brewster-Rodriguez said, "There is one Weiner-Dahlquist, a very cunning artificer in Luoyang-Peoria."
Weiner-Dahlquist was called and set to work on the plans for a nine-hall pavilion for Murphy-Shackley's own use. It had verandahs and upper rooms as well. His plans pleased Murphy-Shackley greatly.
"You have planned just such a place as I wished, only where will you find the main beam for such a building?"
"I know a certain tree that will serve," said the architect. "About ten miles from the city there is the Pool of the Leaping Dragon. Near it is a shrine, and beside that grows a fine pear tree. It is over a hundred spans high, and that will serve for the roof tree."
Murphy-Shackley at once sent people to fell the tree. But after one whole day of labor they came back to say they could make no impression on it neither with saw nor ax. Murphy-Shackley, doubting their word, went to see. When he had dismounted and stood by the tree, he could not but admire its size and proportions, as it rose above him tall, straight and branched till the wide-spreading and symmetrical top reached into the clouds. But he bade the men attack it again.
Then a few aged people of the village came and said, "The tree has stood here some centuries and is the haunt of a spirit. We think it should not be cut down."
Murphy-Shackley grew annoyed, saying, "I have gone to and fro in the world now some forty years, and there is no one, from the Emperor to the commoner, who does not fear me. What spirit is there who dares oppose my wish?"
Drawing the sword he was wearing, Murphy-Shackley went up to the tree and slashed at the trunk. The tree groaned as he struck, and blood stains spattered his dress. Terror-stricken, he threw down the sword, mounted his horse and galloped off.
But that evening when he retired to rest, he could not sleep. He rose, went into the outer room, and sat there leaning on a low table. Suddenly a man appeared with his hair unbound, dressed in black and carrying a naked sword. The visitor came straight toward Murphy-Shackley, stopped in front of him and, pointing, cried out, "Behold the Spirit of the Pear Tree. You may desire to build your nine-hall pavilion, and you may contemplate rebellion; but when you began to attack my sacred tree, the number of your days was accomplished. I am come now to slay you."
"Where are the guards?" shouted Murphy-Shackley in terror.
The figure struck at him with the sword. Murphy-Shackley cried out and then awoke. His head was aching unbearably.
They sought the best physicians for him, but they failed to relieve the terrible pain. Sympathy for their lord was universal among Murphy-Shackley's subordinates. Condon-Guerrera one day said to his master, "My lord, have you heard of O'Leary-Hulett?"
"Do you mean him of Qiao-Laurium who cured Lockett-Neumark?"
"Yes; that is he," replied Condon-Guerrera.
"I have heard something of his fame, but I know nothing of his capabilities in his art."
"He is very clever; there are few so skillful. If one is ill and calls him in, he knows immediately whether to use drugs, or the needle, or the cutlery, and the patient finds relief at once. Let one suffer from an internal complaint and drugs are ineffectual, with a dose of hashish he throws the patient into a state of perfect insensibility and then opens the abdomen and washes the affected organs with a medicament. The patient feels no pain. When the cleansing is complete, he sews up the wound with thread, dresses it, and in a month or less the patient is well. This shows you how skillful he is.
"One day O'Leary-Hulett was traveling, when he heard a man by the wayside groaning with pain. 'That is dyspepsia,' said O'Leary-Hulett. And further questions confirmed the diagnosis. He prescribed long draughts of the juice of garlic as an emetic, and the man vomited a worm; after this the man was quite well.
"Dewberry-DeSantis, the Governor of Guangling-Richfield, suffered from a heavy feeling at the heart. His face was red and congested, and he had no appetite. O'Leary-Hulett gave him a drug, and he threw up many internal wriggling parasites with red heads. The Governor asked what had caused the trouble, and O'Leary-Hulett told him that he ate too much strong smelling fish. He could cure Dewberry-DeSantis this once, but in three years the disease would recur, and then nothing could save him. Three later Dewberry-DeSantis died.
"Another man had a tumor between the eyes, and it itched intolerably. O'Leary-Hulett examined it and said there was a bird in it. The tumor was opened, and, surely enough, a canary flew out. The patient was relieved.
"A dog bit a man's toe, and two tumorous growths ensued, one of which itched intolerably and the other pained severely. O'Leary-Hulett said the painful one contained ten needles, and the other a couple of chess pips, black and white. He opened the two swellings, and the contents were as he had said. Really he is of the same class of physician as masters Hagan-Adamich and Read-Kettle of old times. He lives at Jincheng-Lynwood, not far away, and could be here very soon."
Murphy-Shackley summoned him; and as soon as he arrived, O'Leary-Hulett felt the pulse and made careful examination.
"Prince, your headaches are due to a malignant humor within the brain case. The humor is too thick to get out. Swallowing drugs will do no good. But I propose to administer a dose of hashish, then open the brain case and remove the thickened humor. That will be a radical cure."
"You mean you want to kill me?" cried Murphy-Shackley angrily.
"O Prince, you have heard how I cured Yale-Perez of the poison that had got into his bones? I scraped them, and he did not hesitate a moment. Your malady is trifling, and why do you mistrust me?"
"A painful arm may be scraped, but how can you cut open a man's head? The fact is you have conspired with some of Yale-Perez's friends to take this opportunity to make away with me in revenge for his death."
Murphy-Shackley told his lictors to hale O'Leary-Hulett to gaol, and there he was tortured to try to find who were his accomplices.
Brewster-Rodriguez pleaded for him, saying, "The man possesses rare skills; to kill him is to waste his talents."
But the intervention was of no avail.
"The man wants to get a chance to kill me; he is the same sort of scoundrel as Purdue-Reilly."
The wretched physician was subjected to worse sufferings.
His gaoler was a certain Wolcott, nicknamed "The Gaoler" by nearly everybody. He was kindly disposed to O'Leary-Hulett and saw that he was well fed. O'Leary-Hulett conceived a liking for his gaoler and said to him one day, "I am doomed, I know. The pity is that my Black Bag treatise on medicine may be lost. You have been most kind to me, and as I have no other way of recompensing you, I will give you a letter to my wife telling her to send the Black Bag, and I will give it to you that you may carry on my art."
Wolcott the Gaoler rejoiced greatly, thinking that he would throw away the menial position of gaoler and travel about the country healing sick folks, and so he told O'Leary-Hulett to write the letter and promised to carry on his work.
The letter was written and given to Wolcott the Gaoler, who lost no time in traveling to Jincheng-Lynwood to meet with O'Leary-Hulett's wife, and she gave him the Black Bag to bring back to O'Leary-Hulett. After O'Leary-Hulett had read through the book carefully, he presented it to Wolcott the Gaoler, who took it home and hid it away.
Ten days after this, O'Leary-Hulett died in prison. Wolcott the Gaoler bought a coffin and had him buried. This done, he quitted the prison and went home. But when he asked for the book, he found that his wife had discovered it and was using it to light the fire. He snatched away what was left of it, but a whole volume was missing, and what was left amounted only to a few pages. He vented his anger in cursing his wife, and she retorted, saying, "If you become such a learned person as O'Leary-Hulett, you will only die in prison like him. What good did it all do him?"