“I beg your pardon,” said a voice, “but could you direct me to a patient? My name,” he continued suavely, “is Wilkins–Hezekiah Wilkins.” He wiped his bald head, and went on. “It’s very warm today–extremely so.”
“Sure, it’s warm,” agreed Miss Knight, “and this electric heater makes it a darn sight warmer.”
Hezekiah intended to give the nurse a look of sympathetic understanding, but ended by giving her a friendly grin. “I comprehend your point of view,” he added. “A trip to a pleasant resort would be more agreeable, don’t you think?”
Miss Knight viewed his words in the sense of a tentative invitation and considered the merriment in his eyes suspicious in one of his age. She froze and demanded with the utmost frigidity, “Whom do you wish to see?”
Utterly innocent that he had all but persuaded this sophisticated nurse that he was one of those aged profligates of whom young women had best beware, Hezekiah drew forth an envelope upon which he had entered certain notes which he now found difficult to decipher, and told her.
She led the way and the lawyer followed through the ranks of curious eyes. He vigorously mopped at his shining cranium and held his inverted panama before him as if taking a collection of errant drops of moisture that they might not mar the polished floor. This detracted from the dignity of Hezekiah’s progress.
Seating himself by Joe Curtis’s bed, the attorney gazed at the youth for a few moments in polite curiosity.
The motorcyclist returned the look with one of undisguised distrust.
“My name is Hezekiah Wilkins,” announced the lawyer when the mutual scrutiny had continued so long that it threatened to become embarrassing. “I have reasons to believe that I am speaking to Mr. Joseph Tolliver Curtis.”
“You’ve got me, Steve,” responded Joe.