Soon after breakfast, on the following morning, Doctor Bardolf was shown into Jacob’s sitting-room. He held his watch in his hand. Outside the house, the engine of his great automobile was purring gently.
“No change, Mr. Pratt,” he announced. “All the symptoms, however, continue to be decidedly favourable.”
“Capital!” Jacob exclaimed. “When shall you be here again?”
“I am coming in this afternoon, simply in case that slight alteration in my patient’s condition should have occurred, which will enable you to visit him. I rather gather, from certain indications, that the change is close at hand.”
“Very considerate of you, I am sure, Doctor,” Jacob observed gratefully.
“In the meantime, Mr. Pratt,” the physician enquired, replacing his watch in his waistcoat pocket, “can I be of any service to you? Your brother is a personal friend of mine as well as a patient, and I should like to show you any attention agreeable to you. Would you care, for instance, to see over one of our big hospitals?”
“I’m not keen about it,” Jacob admitted frankly. Doctor Bardolf smiled.
“Like your brother, Mr. Jacob,” he remarked, “you’re candid, I see. I’m afraid I sometimes let my professional predilections run away with me. I’ll send you cards, if you will allow me, for two clubs I think you would like to see something of, and if you’ll do me the honour of dining with me one night, as soon as your brother’s condition has shown the change we are waiting for, I shall be honoured.”
“Very kind of you—delighted,” Jacob murmured.
Whereupon the physician took his leave and was succeeded within a very few moments by Morse. The latter bowed to Jacob and rather ignored Felixstowe’s frivolous salutation.