“You work pretty hard now?”
“I begin when I get up; as a rule, it’s eleven o’clock at night when I finish. That’s the advantage of living in a city hotel. You can meet the people you deal with after office hours.”
“It’s a doubtful advantage,” said the doctor. “You’ll have to change all that. Have you no relaxations or amusements?”
“I haven’t time for them; my business needs too much attention. It’s because I find it tries me now and then that I’ve come here to learn what’s wrong.”
The doctor told him he had a serious derangement of the heart which might have been inherited, but had been developed by his having taxed his strength too severely.
Clay listened with a hardening face.
“What’s the cure?” he asked.
“There is none,” said the doctor quietly. “A general slackening of tension will help. You must take life easier, shorten your working hours, avoid excitement and mental concentration, and take a holiday when you can. I recommend a three months’ change with complete rest, but there will always be some risk of a seizure. Your aim must be to make it as small a risk as possible.”
“And if I go on as I’ve been doing?”
The doctor gave him a keen glance. He was a judge of character, and saw this was a determined, fearless man.