Mr Heve lifted his chin. “Shock may have had a little to do with it,” he answered doubtfully.
“And how long must he be kept off business?”
“I’m afraid there’s not much chance of him doing any more business,” said Mr Heve.
“Really!” Edwin murmured. “Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
Edwin did not feel the full impact of this prophecy at the moment. Indeed, it appeared to him that he had known since the previous midnight of his father’s sudden doom; it appeared to him that the first glimpse of his father after the funeral had informed him of it positively. What impressed him at the moment was the unusual dignity which characterised Mr Heve’s embarrassment. He was beginning to respect Mr Heve.
“I wouldn’t care to give him more than two years,” said Mr Heve, gazing at the carpet, and then lifting his eyes to Edwin’s.
Edwin flushed. And this time his ‘Really!’ was startled.
“Of course you may care to get other advice,” the doctor went on. “I shall be delighted to meet a specialist. But I tell you at once my opinion.” This with a gesture of candour.
“Oh!” said Edwin. “If you’re sure—”