"I'm sorry," Brent said politely.
"My brother was a source of concern to us—"
"Who is us?"
"Why, the family. Who else? We all worried about Charlie. He had fits of depression. Kind of a maniac-depressive."
"Manic-depressive," Taber corrected gently.
"Yeah, that kind, ah—kind of. Well anyhow, he hides from us sometimes and we worry."
"Who sent you to me?"
Charles Blackwell waved a vague hand, "Oh, they told me you were the man to see."
"Tell me their names," Brent said politely. "I'd like to thank them personally."
"Oh that won't be necessary—not necessary at all. You see the thing is, my brother Jack has accidents sometimes and so we figured he might have broken a leg or something, maybe, and it seems you—well, you kind of turned out to be the man to see about it." Charles Blackwell waved the paper. "With this."