“For instance?”
“He is a fine chap—healthy, bright, honest. What is the reason he has said nothing to you? Is he ashamed or afraid? If he is ashamed it is very serious to both of you. If he is afraid—well, then the seriousness depends on how intelligent a father you have been to him.”
“Don't talk like a damned fool! I've been a good father to him; of course—”
“Wait! Wait! First tell me why you do what you ask me not to do?” In the specialist's eyes was a sort of professional curiosity.
“What do you mean?” said E. H. Merriwether, impatiently. It exasperated him to be puzzled.
“Why do you talk like a damned fool?” said Frauenthal.
Nobody ever talked that way to Mr. E. H. Merriwether, overlord of the greatest railroad empire in history. He flushed and was about to retort angrily, but controlled himself in time. The brougham had reached Frauenthal's office. Mr. Merriwether spoke too calmly—you could feel the tense restraint:
“Dr. Frauenthal, I've heard a great deal of your wonderful ability.”
He paused. It came hard to him to be ingratiating. This difficulty is the revenge which nature takes on people who acquire the habit of 'paying money for everything in this world. Such men cannot talk except with a check-book, and the check-book loses the power of speech before happiness—and before death.
“What very difficult thing is it you wish me to do for you?” asked Frauenthal, coldly.