“You’ll pledge yourself to the strictest secrecy, now and afterward?” he said.
“A physician doesn’t make such pledges,” said Lang stiffly. “His patients trust him, or they don’t.”
“Oh, we trust you, all right, doctor,” Carroll hastened to say. “It’s a matter of professional honor; we’ll leave it at that. This man——” He hesitated again. “Did you ever hear of the Automotive Fuel Company of New Jersey?”
Lang barely repressed a startled movement.
“I have,” he said calmly.
“Arthur Rockett, its president, wrecked it, and disappeared with around a quarter of a million.”
“So I have heard. But what has that to do with this case?”
“Just this,” said Carroll, motioning toward the stateroom door. “That man in there—that’s Arthur Rockett.”
Lang’s brain suddenly seemed to swim slightly, yet he controlled his voice.
“Are you sure?” he said. “Rockett was supposed to have got away to South America.”