The Prince smiled.
“I find your candor delightful,” he declared. “Now tell me, Dr. Whiles, how many patients have you in your neighborhood absolutely dependent upon your services?”
The doctor hesitated, opened his mouth and closed it again.
“Not one!” he declared.
Once more the Prince’s lips parted. His smile this time was definite, transfiguring.
“I find you, Dr. Whiles,” he announced, “a most charmingly reasonable person. I make you my offer, then, with every confidence, although I warn you that there will be some strange conditions attached to it. I ask you to accept the post of private physician to this household for the space of one—it may be two months, and I offer you also, as an honorarium, the fee of one thousand guineas.”
The doctor sat quite still for a moment. He was in a condition when speech was difficult. Then his eyes fell upon his tumbler of whiskey and soda still half filled. He emptied it at a draught.
“A thousand guineas!” he repeated hoarsely.
“I trust that you will find the sum attractive,” the Prince said smoothly, “because, as I have warned you before, there are one or two curious conditions coupled with the post.”
“I don’t care what the conditions are,” the doctor said slowly. “I accept!”