He threw them aside with a half-contemptuous gesture, and then took up a pen and began to write.
"My mode of treatment will be quite different from that adopted by Dr. Doddleson," he said; "but I apprehend no difficulty in bringing that gentleman round to my view of the case when we meet."
As he wrote his prescription Philip Sheldon rose and looked over his shoulder.
The form of the prescription told him that Dr. Jedd knew—all! He had suspected this from the first, and the confirmation of this suspicion did not shake him. He grew firmer, indeed; for now he knew on what ground he was standing, and what forces were arrayed against him.
"I really do not understand the basis of your treatment," he said, still looking over the physician's shoulder.
Dr. Jedd turned his chair with a sudden movement, and faced him.
"Am I talking to Mr. Sheldon the stockbroker, or Mr. Sheldon the surgeon-dentist?" he asked.
This was a blow. This allusion to the past was a sharper stroke than any that Philip Sheldon had before received. He looked at Valentine; from Valentine to the physician. What did it mean, this mention of the past? That blabbing fool George had talked to his friend of the days in Fitzgeorge Street, no doubt; and Valentine had blabbed Mr. Sheldon's antecedents to the physician.
Was this what it all meant? Or did it mean more than this? Whatever it might mean, he faced the hidden danger, and met the uncertainties of his position as calmly as he met its certainties.
"I have no desire to interfere with your treatment," he said, very quietly; "but I have some knowledge of the Pharmacopoeia, and I confess myself quite at a loss to understand your prescription."