“Impossible,” Cub barked. “She has been handled by at least ten people since Bessie found her.”
And then everybody began talking at once and Dr. MacArthur rapped for silence.
“Gentlemen,” his voice was commanding, “each of you has had two hours in which to think over the situation. I need not remind you that our decisions must be the sum of our wisdom, and reached without emotion. Therefore it is my suggestion that we, one at a time, state our conclusions, beginning as we are sitting. Dr. Peters what is your opinion?”
“I should rather, MacArthur, reserve....”
“No. Out with it. We’ll never get anywhere that way.”
Princeton’s lavender eyes paled with uncertainty. Cub’s sensational entrance had wobbled his mind.
He moistened his thick lips and his voice lost its usual certainty. It actually contained a tremor when he began:
“I have always, as you know, gentlemen, deferred to you upon any question about which I was uncertain. I have always valued the opinion of specialists above the opinions of ... even of friends ... where any patient, whether dear to me or not, was involved.”
“Need I say, my dear MacArthur, that the Elijah Wilson is dearer to me than a beloved patient, even? The condition is so horribly serious that I am against delay. It should be referred immediately, in my opinion, to a specialist, namely, the police. I feel it should be turned over, I repeat, immediately.”
His speech fell upon them like descending plaster. Somewhere physically they all jumped. Bear grit his teeth and snorted, Harrison scowled, MacArthur gripped his knees....