“Mattus.”
“Yes ... thank you ... Dr. Mattus, consider her?” Hoffbein slid his question into Cub.
“He saw her before she went to sleep around nine. He reports her pulse had dropped to around ninety; otherwise her condition remained unchanged. Anything else, sir?”
Hoffbein never answered verbally questions which did not flatter him. He shook his head thoughtfully.
By that time the staff had regained some measure of its equilibrium and Dr. MacArthur continued.
“Between the time Mattus saw her and three A.M. she was ... was....”
“I’m in favor of turning the whole thing over to the police,” Princeton Peters said most righteously.
“I’m not!” Dr. Harrison was vehement. “Outside of this room ... with the exception of Bear Sterling and Heddis ... no living person is aware of the situation,” he pointed the paper at Peters’ face. “Some linen is too foul to wash in public. Want to ruin the hospital, d’ye? We think we are pretty good at death and birth ... and we shall not be downed by....”
He waved the paper at them.
“Precisely....”