A grunt escaped the set lips of Dr. Harold Barton, Pediatrician-in-Chief.
“Dr. James came to us from the Johns Hopkins Medical School and is one of our best,” Cub defended.
The men held their peace.
“And the other death?” Dr. Virginus Peters, Ophthalmologist-in-Chief, asked, fingering his Sons of Cincinnati rosette which in the private opinion of the majority of the staff should have been a dollar mark. His face was as open as a peach blossom.
With a careful politeness Cub Sterling answered:
“The second was a heart case of a certain type. Also a very good prognosis. Nothing to interfere with an ultimate and complete recovery. She was put in the bed the night after the goitre died. A whole day was given to a complete and thorough examination and the findings were as stated. Upon the second night, Saturday, the nurse saw her at twelve and at one. She died, suddenly, between then and daylight.”
“Any autopsies?” Dr. Peters’ face photographed emotions as a stage does lighting effects. It now held interest.
Cub stalled for self-control by lighting a cigarette. MacArthur and Bear Sterling watched carefully. When the cigarette was smoking Cub replied:
“No, Dr. Peters. Not on the first one. We thought that was a ‘fade-out.’ Upon the second there was a thorough autopsy. Father did it.”
Princeton Peters turned his lavender eyes upon Dr. Ethridge Sterling, Senior.