DR. CONAN DOYLE
OF BUSH VILLAS
Now young Dr. Conan Doyle had nothing to do but sit and wait for someone to knock on his door. Finally, a man with a cough showed up at the door, but just as Conan Doyle was preparing to diagnose bronchitis, the man revealed that he was only calling to collect for a balance left on the gas bill by the previous tenant. No one else came. [It used to amuse me to sit upstairs and count how many of the passersby stopped to look at my plate,] Conan Doyle recalled. [This used to cheer me up and make me feel that something was going on.] All through a beautiful autumn, he sat in his consulting room the entire day, hoping for patients. Such inactivity was difficult for someone used to an energetic life. [At night when all hope of patients was gone for that day I would lock up my house and walk many miles to work off my energy,] he remembered. Often he did not get home until dawn.
Eventually a very few poor people in the neighborhood came, and one hypochondriac who was making the rounds of all the doctors in town. Conan Doyle happened to be