CHAPTER XXXVI
WHITE-EYE
The third time that The Spider called at the hospital, and, as usual, in the evening, he was told by the young house-doctor, temporarily in charge, that he could not see the patient in room 218 without permission from the physician in charge of the case, as it was after visiting hours, and, moreover, there had been altogether too much freedom allowed visitors as it was. This young doctor knew nothing of The Spider's connection with the Annersley case, and was altogether unimpressed by The Spider's appearance, save that he mentally labeled him a "rough-neck" who was evidently pretty badly crippled by rheumatism.
The Spider felt tempted to resort to bribery, but there was something so officious and aggressively professional in the manner of this "straw-boss"—as The Spider mentally labeled him—that The Spider hesitated to flatter his egotism by admitting that he held the whip-hand.
"Then mebby you can find out how he's getting along?" queried The Spider, in his high-pitched voice.
"No objection to that," said the young doctor, reaching for the desk 'phone. "Two-eighteen, please. Two-eighteen? How is your patient to-night? That so? H-m-m! Oh, this is Miss Gray talking? H-m-m! Thanks." And he hung up the receiver.
"The patient is doing very well—exceptionally well. Would you care to leave any message?"
"You might tell Doc Andover to leave word that when I call, I get to see the folks I come to see—and I reckon he'll set you straight."
"Oh, I didn't—er—know you were a friend of Dr. Andover's. What is the name, please?"
"'T wouldn't interest you none, little man. Thanks for the information." And The Spider hobbled out and clumped stiffly down the wide stone stairway.