“Sit down,” he said, relaxing somewhat. “Certainly my nephew is making no secret of the fact that he went to the theater last night. If you'll tell me who you are—”
But Gregory did not sit down. He stood where he was, and continued to eye David intently.
“I don't know just what it conveys to you, Doctor, but I am Beverly Carlysle's brother.”
David lowered himself into his chair. His knees were suddenly weak under him. But he was able to control his voice.
“I see,” he said. And waited.
“Something happened last night at the theater. It may be important. I'd have to see your nephew, in order to find out if it is. I can't afford to make a mistake.”
David's ruddy color had faded. He opened a drawer of his desk and produced a copy of the photograph of Dick in his uniform. “Maybe this will help you.”
Gregory studied it carefully, carrying it to the window to do so. When he confronted David again he was certain of himself and his errand for the first time, and his manner had changed.
“Yes,” he said, significantly. “It does.”
He placed the photograph on the desk, and sitting down, drew his chair close to David's. “I'll not use any names, Doctor. I think you know what I'm talking about. I was sure enough last night. I'm certain now.”