"There's nothing wrong with him," Ferris snapped. "He's probably just trying to get us in trouble, the ingrate!"
Macklin's traditional ranch house was small but attractive in aqua-tinted aluminum.
Under Mitchell's thumb the bell chimbed dum-de-de-dum-dum-dum.
As they waited Mitchell glanced at Ferris. He seemed completely undisturbed, perhaps slightly curious.
The door unlatched and swung back.
"Mrs. Macklin," Mitchell said quickly, "I'm sure we can help if there is anything wrong with your husband. This is Dr. Ferris. I am Dr. Mitchell."
"You had certainly better help him, gentlemen." She stood out of the doorway for them to pass.
Mrs. Macklin was an attractive brunette in her late thirties. She wore an expensive yellow dress. And she had a sharp-cornered jawline.
The Army officer came out into the hall to meet them.