Once introduced, these apprehensions of Laveranity revivified gradually insinuated themselves into the young missionary's mind, creating doubt and disbelief where certainty had reigned before. As the days passed these doubts began to work on him in subtle and unexpected ways, evoking once again the life he had forsaken, giving rise to an overwhelming nostalgia for the half-forgotten habits and routines of the laboratory. He began to bitterly regret the impulse that had caused him to leave his own microscope behind, at his family's New England home, or else it would have been all too easy to set up an improvised laboratory right where he was.
Then, by chance rather than design, he discovered, sandwiched within the pages of a prayerbook, the card of an English doctor, one Surgeon-Colonel Lawrie, of the Indian Medical Service. Farley had met Lawrie on one of his occasional visits to the Mission 's headquarters in Cal-
cutta. In the course of their brief meeting, the SurgeonColonel had informed him that he was on his way to Hyderabad, to take up an appointment as Professor in the Medical School recently founded by the prince of that state, the nizam. Fortunately, he had scribbled his new address on the back of his card and Farley lost no time in addressing a letter to him, enquiring into the present state of opinion regarding Laveran's theories.
He had not long to wait: to his great relief Colonel Lawrie wrote back within the month. But the letter, when he read it, only deepened his puzzlement: the Colonel still appeared to hold to the belief that Laveranity was without foundation.
Despite the efforts of certain acolytes, wrote the Colonel, it remained true, so far as rational opinion could discern, that Laveran's speculations were wholly without empirical foundation. He himself had recently been witness to a spectacle that had produced forcible proof of this in a manner that would have been comic had it not so dramatically shamed its protagonist.
A self-important and opinionated young army doctor, Ronald Ross had just been posted to the army hospital at Begumpett, not far from Hyderabad. Having more time on his hands than was good for him, Ross had taken it upon himself to begin an investigation into malaria – a disease of which he had no practical knowledge whatever. The young man had been overheard, not once but several times, at the Secunderabad Club, boasting of his familiarity with Laveran's chimera. Nor had he hesitated to accept an invitation to demonstrate the existence of this creature to the assembled faculty of the Nizam's School of Medicine. To this end, he had actually loaded some poor shivering unfortunate into a bullock cart and brought him rattling over to the School, eleven miles away. But of course when the time came, with everybody gathered in the lecture theatre, there was absolutely nothing to be found in the poor man's blood: not a trace of Laveran's fantastical creature. When asked for an explanation he had come up with some stuttering tale of how the creature had gone into temporary withdrawaclass="underline" as though the parasite were a sleepy Latin in need of a daily siesta.
As far as he, Surgeon-Colonel Lawrie, was concerned this contretemps put paid to the matter, once and for all. However, the Colonel went on to add, he understood very well that in these matters a man might want to make up his mind for himself. One of his colleagues in the Medical Service, D. D. Cunningham, FRS, a very sound man and a scientist of some distinction, had the charge of a laboratory, in Calcutta. Although not comparable to the leading laboratories of Europe or America, Cunningham's facilities were certainly the best in India, and possibly within the whole continent of Asia. Cunningham was no more persuaded of Laveran's theory than anyone else, but he was a fair-minded man, and would gladly allow his facilities to be used for a good cause. Should the Reverend Doctor so desire, he, Surgeon-Colonel Lawrie, would be glad to write a letter of introduction to Cunningham, etc., etc.
Farley wrote immediately to Lawrie, accepting his offer, and it was soon arranged that he would visit Cunningham's laboratory on his next trip to the Mission 's Calcutta headquarters.
Farley boarded the train in a state of feverish anticipation. His excitement was in no way diminished when he disembarked at Calcutta 's Sealdah Station three days later.
Promptly at five, the next afternoon, Farley presented himself for tea, at Dr Cunningham's boarding house. Dr Cunningham proved to be a large man of florid complexion. He greeted Farley with booming goodwill, and enquired in some detail after the health and well-being of his erstwhile mentor W. S. Thayer, whose work he knew and evidently admired.
They conversed for some time about general matters and it soon became clear to Farley that whatever his earlier accomplishments, Cunningham had long since lost interest in research. He was not entirely surprised when Cunningham told him that he was to retire some three years hence, and that with his future leisure in mind, he had been exploring the possibility of establishing a private practice in Calcutta.
When eventually the conversation veered around to the matter at hand, there was a disappointment in store for the young missionary. Cunningham informed him that due to an unforeseen circumstance, he was to leave Calcutta in a day or two: he had been summoned to Assam by a planter friend who had been taken suddenly ill.
'But don't look so stricken, my boy,' Cunningham bellowed, clapping Farley on the back. 'Tomorrow you can look at all the slides you want. Believe me, it won't take you very long to dispose of this Laveran business.'
The next day Farley's duties kept him at the Mission until well into the afternoon. As a result, it was not until four o'clock, when the sun was dipping low over the green expanse of the Maidan that he arrived at the Presidency General Hospital. Had the circumstances been other than they were, he may well have been tempted to spend a few minutes admiring the restrained elegance of the hospital's red-brick buildings and the well-tended lawns and treeshaded pathways that surrounded them. But being determined to make good use of such time as he had, Farley quickly ascertained the direction of Dr Cunningham's laboratory from an attendant and set off towards it at a brisk walk.
The laboratory was set well back within the hospital's spacious and thickly wooded grounds. It was screened from the main hospital complex by a tall thicket of bamboo, and upon catching his first glimpse of the building Farley was taken by surprise.
It looked nothing like any laboratory he had ever seen: certainly nothing could have been more unlike the sepulchral chambers of gloom that then served to house the laboratories of most universitie; in America and Europe. This was just an ordinary bungalow, of a type common to British military installations everywhere.
Standing in the shaded thicket with the bamboo stirring around him, Farley had an unaccustomed sense of unease. Casting a backward glance over his shoulder Farley saw no one around him, neither in the thicket, nor in the bungalow. Yet he had the distinct feeling that his presence had not gone unnoticed. Within moments, as though in confirmation, the bungalow's front door flew open, and the tall rubicund figure of Dr Cunningham stepped out on the veranda. 'Ah, there you are Farley,' he cried, 'they told me you were here. Well, don't just stand there, man; come on in. Let's settle this business once and for all.'
Recovering, Farley made his way up the bungalow's steps, and shook Cunningham's large, fleshy hand. After a quick exchange of greetings, the older man put a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the laboratory's open door. Farley stepped in, only to stop dead in his tracks when he discovered that he was being minutely observed by a sari-clad woman and a young man dressed in pyjamas and a laboratory tunic.
The woman was watching him with a look of such piercing enquiry that he could not avert his gaze from her. Dressed in a cheap and brightly coloured cotton sari, she was neither young nor old, perhaps in her late thirties. When she had finished with her examination, she seated herself on the floor, with her knees drawn up in front.