“Ethridge, isn’t it possible you are taking your Hippocratic oath too seriously, son...?”
“Please, Dr. Harrison!” There was a note of almost childish pleading in the man’s voice. “Dr. MacArthur has gone over all of this too, and he thinks it is....”
MacArthur took his hands from his graying temples and stated: “The deaths have occurred in the same bed.”
With that phrase the waters parted, and Cub’s father, Dr. Ethridge Sterling, Senior, Dr. Harrison and Dr. Barton braced themselves for the nervous antagonism which was rising in Doctors Peters, Paton and Hoffbein.
“The same bed?” Doctors Peters and Hoffbein inhaled the phrase as a patient does the ether.
Cub gave one of his quick, emphatic nods and continued:
“The first was a goitre I was preparing for Father. Normal case with a good prognosis. Basal average, and nerves in excellent shape, considering the nature of the ailment. The patient died suddenly and unexpectedly.”
“Who attended her?” cut in Flannel-feet Hoffbein, as he was known to medical students, and Dr. Otto Hoffbein, Psychiatrist, to the world.
Cub Sterling’s internal barometer began to rise. The antagonism between these two men was like that between a mule and a shetland pony.
“Dr. Mattus, resident, saw her Thursday morning, Father and I saw her between seven and nine Thursday night and Dr. Sarah James saw her about ten-thirty. She was dead by dawn.”