They sat upon the edges of the chairs.
“Well?”
“Go on, Peters, and tell him,” Prissy prompted in his treble.
Princeton’s eyes took on their purple mist and he began:
“Dear MacArthur, what we are about to tell you is drawn out of us by our great love for the Elijah Wilson ... and for you. We feel you must know, and we could not tell you in front of Bear. It would have killed him.”
“What is it? Get to the point.”
“Last night at midnight, Dr. Paton and I were coming up the corridor from Woman’s Clinic ... I had been to see about the eyes of the president of the Woman’s College ... sudden attack ... and Ethridge came out of the door of Medicine Clinic just ahead of us.”
Dr. MacArthur put his hands under his desk and gripped his knees. His voice, however, was perfectly calm, as he replied.
“You must have been mistaken, Dr. Peters. Ethridge said he was in his rooms.”
“That is the saddest part. We heard him say it! And we could not both be mistaken about Ethridge’s back. His queer walk, MacArthur. One shoulder higher than the other.... And we both saw it.”