It was plain that all of them were ready to talk. He sat erect in his chair and prepared for battle. The small chatter died out, and the seven men silently awaited Cub Sterling.
At four minutes past two he entered. His bushy, curly hair was rumpled, his left shoulder was hysterically high. In his right hand he carried a small doll in a pink organdie dress and bonnet that continued crying, “Ma-Ma, Ma-Ma.” He seemed unaware of the noise; but it pierced the other men like a jigsaw. They all jumped and Dr. MacArthur’s face for the first time appeared blank. Bear Sterling was the first to regain his equilibrium; after all he had dealt with the man as a child.
“Cub. What in the hell have you got there?” he growled.
But Cub strode obliviously past him and Dr. Barton took the doll. She stopped crying immediately. That and Dr. Barton’s action brought Cub to a halt.
“Dr. MacArthur, that doll was found by Bessie Ellis upon the foot of her crib in Ward B when she awoke this morning. Evidently a present someone had put there during the night. Nobody on the ward knew anything about it. It must have been left by....”
“Who is Bessie Ellis, son?” Dr. Harrison soothed.
“She’s a nephritis case we have had on the ward for several months. Six years old and cute. Barton and Father know her.”
“Quite a pet,” Bear affirmed.
“Sinister!” Princeton Peters murmured.
“No. Real evidence,” Bear’s brows were thunderously low. “She must bear the finger prints of the murderer.”