The door closed after us, and we went down the steps.
"Jenkinson's the family doctor," he said. "Let's drive around there, and find out how really ill Miss Holladay is. I'm worried about her, Lester."
"That's a good idea," I agreed, and gave the driver the address. Jenkinson was in his office, and received us at once.
"Doctor Jenkinson," began our junior, without preamble, "I am John Royce, of Graham & Royce. You know, I suppose, that we are the legal advisers of Miss Frances Holladay."
"Yes," answered Jenkinson. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Royce."
"In consequence, we're naturally interested in her welfare and all that concerns her, and I called to ask you for some definite details of her condition."
"Her condition? I don't quite understand."
"We should like to know, doctor, just how ill she is."
"Ill!" repeated Jenkinson, in evident surprise. "But is she ill?"
"She's your patient, isn't she? I thought you were the family doctor."