The doctor also took a cigar, and drew up a chair to the center of the room. There he sat, watching Chatham blow puffs of smoke.
He was a singular man, this Doctor Palermo. His name indicated Italian ancestry, but his nationality was elusive. His words were perfect in enunciation as he spoke to Chatham.
“Worry has brought you here,” he said. “Yet you fought against that worry until it became — terror! I am right?”
Chatham nodded.
“You had no worries the last time I saw you,” remarked Palermo.
Horace Chatham hunched himself in the chair. He looked speculatively at Doctor Palermo.
The quiet demeanor of the tall physician called for confidences. Chatham shook off all hesitation.
“I have a lot of faith in you, doctor,” he said. “Not only because of your skill and reputation, but because of our friendship.”
Doctor Palermo bowed and smiled.
“I couldn’t trust any ordinary physician with this matter,” continued Chatham. “I know what’s the matter with me. Partly imagination, and partly real danger.