The Firm of Girdlestone Chapter 9 - A Nasty Cropper

Ashton Hoffman (0:00)

Chapter 9 of A Femme of Gettlestone by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, read by Ashton Hoffman, a nasty cropper. But there were pitfalls ahead as he moved to the Botani table. A gray-bearded examiner waved his hand in the direction of a row of microscopes, as an intimation that the student was to look through them, and pronounce what, upon what he saw. Tom seemed to compress his whole soul into his one eye, as he glared hopelessly through the tube at what appeared to him to resemble nothing so much as a sheet of ice with marks of skates upon it. Come along, come along, the examiner growled impatiently. Courtesy is conspicuous by its absence in most of the Endenborough examination ends. You must pass on to the next one, lest you can offer an opinion.

This venerable teacher of Botany, though naturally a kind-hearted man, was well known as one of the most malignant species of examiners. One of the school which considers such an ordeal in the light of a trial of strength between their pupils and themselves, in his eyes, the candidate was endeavouring to pass, and his duty was to endeavour to prevent him. A result which in a large proportion of cases, he successfully accomplished. Hurry on, hurry on, he reiterated fusely. It's a section of a leaf, said the student. It's nothing of the sort, the examiner shouted exultingly. You've made a bad mistake, sir, a very bad one. Indeed, it's the spur-low of a water plant. Move on to the next. Tom, in much perturbation of mine, shuffled down the line and looked through the next brazen tube. This is a preparation of Sturmota, he said, recognizing it from a print in his book on Bertani. The professor shook his head despondingly. You're right, he said. Pass on to the next. The third preparation was as puzzling to the student as the first had been.

And he was stealing himself to meet the inevitable when an unexpected circumstance had turned the scales in his favor. It chanced that the other examiner, being somewhat less of a fossil than his confers, and having still vitality enough to take an interest in things which were foreign to his subject, had recognized the student as being the young hero who had damaged himself in upholding the honor of his country. Being an ardent patriot himself, his heart warmed towards time, and perceiving the imminent peril in which he stood, he interfered in his behalf by a few leading questions, got him on safer ground, and managed to keep him there until the little bell tinkled once more. The younger examiner showed remarkable tact in feeling his way and keeping within the very limited area of the student's knowledge. He succeeded so well, however, that although his colleague shook his hurried head and intimated in other ways his poor opinion of the candidate's acquirements, he was forced to put down another SB upon the paper in front of him. The student drew a long breath when he saw it and marched across to the other table with a mixture of trepidation and confidence, like a jockey riding at the last and highest hurdle in a steeplechase. Alas, it is the last hurdle which often floors the rider, and Thomas, too, was doomed to find at the final deal an insurmountable one.

As he crossed the room, some evil trance made him think of the gossip outside, and his allusion to the uptrue substance known as cacodile.

Once let a candidate's mind hit upon such an idea as this, and nothing will ever get it out of his thoughts. Tom felt his head buzz around, and he passed his hand over his forehead, and threw his curly yellow hair to steady himself. He felt a frenzied impulse as he sat down to inform the examiners that he knew very well what they were going to ask him, and that it was hopeless for him to attempt to answer it. The leading professor was a ruddy-faced, benevolent old gentleman with spectacles and a kindly manner. He made a few commonplace remarks to his colleagues, with the good-natured intention of giving the confused-looking student before him time to compose himself. Then turning blandly towards him, he said in the mildest of tones, Have you ever rowed in a pond? Tom acknowledged that he had.

Perhaps on these occasions, the examiner continued, you may have chance to touch the mud at the bottom with your oar. Tom agreed that it was possible. In that case, you may have observed the large bubble or a secession of them, as them has risen from the bottom to the surface. Now of what gas was that bubbling composed? The unhappy student, with the one idea always fermenting in his brain, felt the worst had come upon him. With one moment's hesitation, he thought he expressed his conviction that the compound was cacodile. Never did two men look more surprised, and never did two generally grave savants laugh more heartily than did the two examiners. When they realized that the candidate had answered their math, Spiele brought him back to his senses, and he saw with a feeling of despair that he was marsh gas, which they had expected. One of the simplest and calmest of chemical combinations. Alas, it was too late now. He knew full well that nothing could save him. With poor marks in botanomy and zooliology, such an error in chemistry was irreparable. He did what was perhaps the best thing under the circumstances. Rising from his chair, he made a respectful bow to the examiners and walked straight out of the room. To the great astonishment of the janitor, who had never before witnessed such a breach of decorum.