"Good Lord!" the doctor breathed, startled. "This goes deeper than I thought. There must be something in Grant Park—"
"Something that I intend to look into," Bryan said quietly. "There's a story here—if I can dig it out."
He thrust the envelope and pencil back into his jacket, together with the slip of paper he had been given. "I'll be running along, Dave. Thanks for your tip. It was swell of you to remember me."
The other gestured as he followed Bryan into the hall and toward the elevators. "Maybe I had an ulterior motive. Ruth and I have been wondering why you never drop in any more."
"I've been running a rat-race," Bryan said.
"You look it, Terry. You don't look as well as you did when you first came back from overseas."
"What a big medicine bottle you have, doc!"
"I'm serious, Terry. I've had an idea you weren't happy about things, and now I'm sure of it. What seems to be the trouble? Your job?"
"The job's all right."
"You won't tell an old friend?"