"Certainly," said his new friend, "if you really wish it. The only thing against it is the noise of the train. I should have preferred to wait until we reached Brighton. We shall get there very shortly and then if you would come back home with me I could make a thorough examination."
"I'm afraid that's impossible," said McTaggart. "I'm going straight on to Worthing. There wouldn't be time..." his face had dropped and the doctor, seeing it, made up his mind.
"Very well—we'll do it now. Luckily I've my stethoscope with me——" he opened his bag as he spoke. "I've been up to town to see a patient."
McTaggart stood up and took off his coat, then his waistcoat.
"It's awfully good of you—I'm really tremendously obliged..." he went on with his undressing.
But the doctor was almost as keen as himself to investigate this curious case. He said so—tactfully—to set his new patient at ease.
In a few minutes it was over.
"I can't find anything wrong with you. Your heart seems perfectly sound to me. The beat is a little fast just now, probably through excitement—but steady and strong. It ought to take you comfortably into your nineties!"
He smiled as he spoke, holding out his hand.
"I congratulate you—sound as a rock!"