Doctor Twist turned from the window. A maid had appeared bearing a card on a salver.
"Show him in," said Doctor Twist, having examined this. And presently there entered a lissom young man in a gray flannel suit.
"Doctor Twist?"
"Yes, sir."
The newcomer seemed a little surprised. It was as if he had been expecting something rather more impressive, and was wondering why, if the proprietor of Healthward Ho had the ability which he claimed, to make New Men for Old, he had not taken the opportunity of effecting some alterations in himself. For Doctor Twist was a small man, and weedy. He had a snub nose and an expression of furtive slyness. And he wore a waxed moustache.
However, all this was not the visitor's business. If a man wishes to wax his moustache, it is a matter between himself and his God.
"My name's Carmody," he said. "Hugo Carmody."
"Yes. I got your card."
"Could I have a word with my uncle?"
"Sure, if you don't mind waiting a minute. Right now," explained Doctor Twist, with a gesture toward the window, "he's occupied."