The doctor sat down at Sands' table.
"I'd have got here a long while ago," Doctor Lewis went on to explain, "but just as I was leaving the Dietz, where I have a patient, I was asked to stop and see—whom do you think?"
"Your friend, O'Reilly, perhaps. Someone mentioned to me that he was there."
"No," said Lewis, "not O'Reilly, but as it happens, a friends of O'Reilly's, in the same hotel, who suddenly collapsed."
"I can guess, then," replied Sands. "I know the Herons are at the Dietz. Your patient was one of those two—Mrs. Heron, I should say. I don't somehow see Heron 'collapsing.'"
"My patient was Heron, not his wife. The attack was nothing serious, but Mrs. H—— was scared. You and Heron are as fast friends as ever, of course?"
"I admire John Heron in many ways," Roger answered, indirectly.
"And he ought to admire you, as certainly he does! A good many people thought you risked your life, throwing yourself into that business in California, the way you did, Sands. But you came out on top, and brought Heron out on top. Your reward was great!"
Roger smiled. He was thinking of the journey back, after his triumph, and of Beverley. She had been his reward. Once it had seemed great.
"Have you seen Heron since he got to New York?" said the doctor.