I called as many of them as I could reach together that
night, introduced them to one another and to my facts, and asked
them what they thought then. What they thought made a sensation
in my paper the next morning, and practically decided the fight,
though the enemy was able to spoil my relish for the ham by
reporting the poisoning of a whole family with a dish of depraved
smelt while I was chasing up the trichinae. However, I had my revenge.
I walked in that afternoon upon Dr. Cyrus Edson at his microscope
surrounded by my adversaries, who besought him to deny my story.
The doctor looked quizzically at them and made reply:--
"I would like to oblige you, boys, but how I can do it with those
fellows squirming under the microscope I don't see. I took them from
the flesh of one of the patients who was sent to Trinity Hospital
to-day. Look at them yourself."
He winked at me, and, peering into his microscope, I saw my diagnosis
more than confirmed. There were scores of the little beasts curled
up and burrowing in the speck of tissue. The unhappy patient died
that week.
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