His “yes,” was like a cow’s “moo.”
The voice which responded hit his brain with an impact. He opened his eyes and listened:
“This is Cub Sterling. The patient in Bed 11, Ward B, is dead. Found by the night nurse fifteen minutes ago.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, sir. Mattus and I have both examined her. There are no signs of ... of anything. It..... What shall we do, Dr. MacArthur?”
“Remove the body to the autopsy room. Order immediate autopsy. Keep entire staff intact. Notify your father. Keep everything and everybody composed and wait for me.”
The clearness in his head seemed to recede and he crawled out of bed with a horrible weariness.
He had fought death, deceit, politics, criticism, financial panics, women ... but this was his first experience with ... murder!
»III«
Autopsy Findings
Bear Sterling was tilted back in the desk chair. The half-egg-shell ceiling light blazed in his face. He wore the surgeons’ apron in which he had performed the autopsy. His lower jaw lay relaxed against the cushions of his chins. His eyes were peacefully closed. He was asleep. When the Elijah Wilson had been founded he had been the youngest surgeon, and had learned to sleep between crises. He did it automatically, naturally and silently.