His long brow was pleated with straight thin wrinkles.
He was reading Dr. Heddis’ supplement with fascinated horror. It indicated, what he had feared, that the patient in Bed 11, Ward B, Medicine Clinic had not died of a sleeping potion. That somewhere in the Elijah Wilson....
His door into the corridor of the Administration Building was open. Except during meetings it was always open.
His secretary appeared in it and said, “Here is your mail, Dr. MacArthur.”
The tone of her voice braced him.
He smiled as she advanced and laid the letters upon the desk.
“I won’t dictate this morning, Miss Sadler. There is an important staff meeting. Please call off my appointment with the Woman’s Board, and that luncheon engagement with the man from the Duke Foundation ... and ... take all telephone messages unless they come from the staff, or Dr. Heddis.”
He was interrupted by the tall shadow of Cub Sterling.
The secretary turned and passed out.
Cub took the proffered chair and said, “Can they all come, sir?”