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physician need not fear so old an enemy as death.”
    The Doctor examines his patient and realizes that the sick man is actually Death himself and that he is suffering from a malignant tumor. The Doctor decides to operate.
    “You mean to save Death?” the Assistant asks.
    “No—to destroy Death,” the Doctor replies. “I am going to kill him.”
    “You can’t.”
    “Yes, I can. . . . Now he has science against him. For the first time men are learning how to outwit him. I myself have held him at bay a good many times. And he is afraid. We have not yet overcome him. We have not yet won a clear, decisive victory. But he is afraid. We have made progress, and he fears that some day we may destroy his power. . . . This is my opportunity.”
    “You must be insane,” the Assistant objects, but on reflection suggests that there might be a lot of money in killing Death.
    “Money?” the Doctor says. “No, I may become a murderer, but I shall not be a usurer. These murderer’s hands will bestow health and peace—life. They won’t reach for gold.”
    “But to kill! Aren’t you afraid? You, who believe in God—”
    “God will help me.”
    Offstage the Doctor places Death under the knife and kills him. Thunderclap. The Doctor returns rubbing his hands, feeling proud of himself. Boasting of the power of modern science, the Doctor suggests to Death’s Secretary that immortality would be an appropriate fee.

    But Death’s Secretary has a surprise in store for the Doctor.
    “I am no longer the Secretary,” he announces.
    “Who are you?”
    “I am now—His Grace.”
    “His Grace?”
    “He was my father.”
    The Doctor and his Assistant step back, dismayed. The ticking of the clock grows louder.
    “This pendulum swings on forever,” Death’s son says. “Life and Death exist together, but Death is the stronger. . . . His power lies in my hands, Doctor. Take care that I do not use it.”
    The Doctor offers a handshake. Death’s son refuses it “with an ironic smile.”
    “I no longer fear you,” the Doctor insists, alluding to his scientific knowledge. His hands tremble.
    “I don’t fear you, either,” the Assistant chimes in.
    “Time enough, Doctor,” Death’s son snickers. “We shall meet again, all of us.”
    The curtain falls.
    No one in the audience that night was required to take the play seriously. Death Sends for the Doctor , with its theme of murder and death and scientific arrogance, was familiar stuff to a crowd raised on Frankenstein movies. Only in retrospect did it seem a peculiarly appropriate choice for the senior play at Eldorado High that year.

4
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    AT FIRST EVERYTHING WENT ACCORDING TO PLAN. DALE SPENT two years in the navy, entering Officers’ Candidate School at the University of North Carolina, where he was able to take several courses for college credit, and then serving as an ensign aboard the battleship North Carolina in the Pacific, seeing some action during the kamikaze phase of the war. As soon as he was discharged, he went home to marry Helen Jean.
    They were both still under age, so they eloped to Arkansas. Noma, who had wanted Dale to finish college first, capitulated once the marriage was accomplished. Peck professed approval, and Dr. and Mrs. Pearce were enthusiastic.
    Dale entered Southern Illinois Normal University at Carbondale, switched to the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana in June 1946, and with credits transferred from North Carolina and Southern Illinois received his bachelor of science degree cum laude in May 1947, benefiting from the G.I. Bill and from the university’s Division of Special Services for War Veterans. He entered the Washington University, St. Louis, Medical School in September of that year, still a month shy of his twenty-second birthday. His quick mind and hard work had enabled him to keep on schedule toward becoming a doctor.
    A private university founded by T. S. Eliot’s grandfather, Washington was the most distinguished