“How soon, then?”
“Tomorrow — at the very earliest — if he rallies satisfactorily.”
“And — if he doesn’t rally?”
The doctor spread out his hands. “Your questions will have to go unanswered in that case, Mr. Shayne.”
“I can’t risk that, Doctor. Good God, all I want is the answer to one question.”
“You can’t risk it,” Doctor Fairweather said stonily. “He is my patient. I’ll allow you to question him as soon as I’m convinced he’s out of danger. Certainly not before that.”
Shayne worried the lobe of his left ear. “Sorry. Guess I’m a little jittery. There are a couple of murders involved, you know.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Was it attempted suicide?”
“That is impossible to determine, Mr. Shayne. The position of the wound indicates that it may have been self-inflicted. On the other hand, there is no proof that another’s finger didn’t pull the trigger. The bullet was a thirty-two caliber.”
Shayne nodded. “Does Miss Forbes believe Meade shot himself?”
“She seems quite positive of it. She is dangerously close to hysteria. It is advisable for her to remain here under my care tonight.”