Black laughed. He held up one arm, the hand clenched. “Do you remember the challenge I gave you last summer, Doctor, to a wrestle, any time you might take me up? If we weren’t both stuffed, just now, I’d have it out with you, here and now.”
“Very likely you could put it all over me—though I’m not so sure of that.” Red was eyeing his companion with the professional eye still. “But—go on as you are doing, and a year from now it’ll be different. You’re wasting nervous energy—and you can’t afford to. It’s as I say—you’re a spendthrift. What’s the use?”
“I’m a Scotsman—and that’s equivalent to saying I spend only what’s necessary. It’s a contradiction in terms——”
“It is not—excuse me. I’ve been reading about one of your Scottish regiments over there—cut to pieces—and they knew they were going to be when they went into it. Call them thrifty—of their lives?”
“Ah, that’s different. They were glorious. As for that, Doctor—to right-about-face with my defense—why shouldn’t one be a spendthrift with his life? You’re one yourself.”
“Not I. I practice my profession, and mine only. You practice—about four. Last week I caught you playing nurse to a family of small children while their mother went shopping.” Red held up a silencing hand at Black’s laughter. “Yes, I know she hadn’t been out for a month. That same night you made a speech somewhere—and sat up the rest of the night with Cary Ray—— Oh, yes—I know he’s improved a lot lately, but he got restless that night and you stuck by. Next day——”
“Doctor Burns——”
“Wait a minute. Next day you——”
“How do you come to be keeping tab on me?” Black stood up, fire in his eye. “See here! Last week you did seven operations on patients who couldn’t afford to pay you a cent—and they weren’t in charity wards, either. Day before yesterday——”
But he had to stop, having but fairly begun. Red’s expression said he wouldn’t stand for it. The two regarded each other in the light of the fires, and both faces were glowing ruddily. They suggested two antagonists about to spring.