“Very — very — valuable,” murmured Burke thickly.
“I must consider this—” said Doctor Palermo. “You must come again, and tell me more. But tonight — you do not seem well. Hassan!”
THE Arab entered softly. Doctor Palermo pointed to Burke, now sagging limply in his chair. Hassan left the room and returned with a glass of water. Doctor Palermo then left the room.
Burke did not see him go. He was drinking the water with Hassan’s aid. When the physician returned, Burke was sitting upright in his chair, looking like a man who had recovered from a daze.
“Ah! You feel better?” The physician’s voice expressed concern. Burke nodded, and grinned.
“That drink was a bit stiff,” he said sheepishly. “What were we saying?”
Doctor Palermo smiled mildly. This time there was no malice in his expression. He impressed Burke with his kindliness.
“It is too late to talk now,” he said. “You seem tired. Call the apartment tomorrow, and I shall arrange another appointment for you. I have just been telephoning. I have called a cab to take you home. I thought you were unwell.”
“Never mind the cab,” protested Burke. “I take the subway home — up to Ninety-sixth Street.”
Doctor Palermo shook his head.