"I did not understand," said the millionaire quietly. "I did not think you knew." He looked at him.
"Well—of course—if you have to—" Dr. Carmon's gaze was reluctant and his brow puckered itself.... Standing beside the millionaire and looking up at him with the puckered forehead, he may have seemed an awkward and fussy and ineffectual little man.
"He can't go!" It was Aunt Jane's voice, prompt and decisive—and the two men turned and looked at her.
"He can't go," she repeated calmly. "He's got to have this on." She motioned to the paper she held in her hand. "He's got to have it on right away and go to bed."
"But—" said Herman Medfield.
"You can't go to bed and go to an office, too," replied Aunt Jane firmly.
The millionaire looked at her. His glance travelled to Dr. Carmon's face. There was the merest hint of a twinkle behind the round professional glasses, and Herman Medfield regarded it.
"Do I understand that this is your order?" he asked politely.
"It's better for you—not—to wait," admitted Dr. Carmon slowly.
"You mean I'm taking chances?"