Heriot gave a convulsive start.
"Was—was that Dr. Downie?"
His son nodded.
Again Heriot's startled eyes ran over the certificate, and then they turned upon his son. It is regrettable that his next words were not more worthy of his reputation.
"You d——d young skunk!"
"It's no use swearing," his son replied coldly.
Mr. Walkingshaw fell back in his chair and seemed to meditate.
"You wired to Glasgow for him?" he inquired in a moment.
"I did."