He made a careful examination of the sleeping man, while Bassett watched his face.
“Been a drinking man? Or do you know?”
“No. But I think not. I gave him a small drink this morning, when he seemed to need it.”
“Been like this all day?”
“Since noon. Yes.”
Once more the medical man stooped. When he straightened it was to deliver Bassett a body blow.
“I don't like his condition, or that twitching. If these were the good old days in Wyoming I'd say he is on the verge of delirium tremens. But that's only snap judgment. He might be on the verge of a good many things. Anyhow, he'd better be moved to the hospital. This is no place for him.”
And against this common-sense suggestion Bassett had nothing to offer. If the doctor had been looking he would have seen him make a gesture of despair.
“I suppose so,” he said, dully. “Is it near? I'll go myself and get a room.”
“That's my advice. I'll look in later, and if the stupor continues I'll have in a consultant.” He picked up his bag and stood looking down at the bed. “Big fine-looking chap, isn't he?” he commented. “Married?”