“From Dr. Ross Scotton,” she said.
It was hastily folded and roughly scribbled—so roughly as to be hardly legible. Challenger bent his heavy brows over it.
“Please, dear friend and guide, listen to what this lady says. I know it is against all your views. And yet I had to do it. You said yourself that I had no hope. I have tested it and it works. I know it seems wild and crazy. But any hope is better than no hope. If you were in my place you would have done the same. Will you not cast out prejudice and see for yourself? Dr. Felkin comes at 3.
“J. Ross Scotton.”
Challenger read it twice over and sighed. The brain was clearly involved in the lesion: “He says I am to listen to you. What is it? Cut it as short as you can.”
“It’s a spirit doctor,” said the lady.
Challenger bounded in his chair.
“Good God, am I never to get away from this nonsense!” he cried. “Can they not let this poor devil lie quiet on his deathbed but they must play their tricks upon him?”
Miss Delicia clapped her hands and her quick little eyes twinkled with joy.
“It’s not his deathbed. He is going to get well.”