“Certainly not,” Dr. Wallace said, with dignity. “In my profession one does not rely upon inference except when it is absolutely necessary. I asked him when he had arrived here, and he said he had reached here this morning. That he had expected to be in San Diego by night.”
“You didn’t ask him where he’d stayed last night?”
“No, I didn’t. I failed to see that that would assist me in any way in reaching a diagnosis, or prescribing a treatment. You must remember, gentlemen, that my interest in the matter is purely from a medical standpoint. Incidentally, I may say that it was a matter which called for rather delicate handling. To have impressed upon Packard that he was a victim of amnesia would have caused a sudden fright which would have been a cumulative shock, superimposed, as it would have been, upon the shock incident to the accident. You see, gentlemen, in a motor accident, there is not only the shock resulting from the injuries, but there is that momentary realization of impending disaster which comes a fraction of a second before the actual impact.”
Mason nodded and said, “I understand. You haven’t any more information which might be of value to me, have you?”
“None whatever,” Dr. Wallace said, “other than that I may repeat, the man’s injuries were not serious. Doubtless you are representing an insurance company which—”
“No,” Mason said, “I’m not representing the insurance company. I’m interested, that’s all. You have Harry Trader’s address?”
“Yes. The Trader’s Transfer Company, 1819 Center Street.”
Mason said, “Thank you, Doctor. Come on, Paul, let’s go.”
Dr. Wallace followed them into the corridor, his manner suave, dignified and professional. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said.
As they left the hospital and crossed to the automobile, Drake said, in his slow drawl, “Where does that leave you, Perry?”