“They would have to make him out incompetent.”
Peter nodded. Had there been more light in the room Doctor Dempsy might have been startled at the unprecedented expression of cunning that had crept into his friend’s face. “I’m not up enough in medical matters to know what I could prove against the young chap to put him out. You’ll have to help me. Just how could his rival oust him?”
“Accuse him of drugs,” came the unhesitating answer. “That’s the most plausible, and it’s what plays havoc with young surgeons quicker than anything else. They feel their nerves going, and they take a hypodermic; it steadies them until—it gets them. If you can make your villain convince the staff that drugs are back of the lost case, you can get your poor devil of a surgeon permanently disposed of.”
Peter let out a long-drawn breath. “Thank you, Doc. You’ve helped me out—considerably.”
It does not in the least matter how Peter finished the tale. Before the inevitable conclusion Doctor Dempsy dropped off to sleep, and no one but Peter himself heard the final, “And they married and lived happy ever after. By Jupiter they did!”
He slipped softly out of the room and stood a moment in the corridor, wondering what he would do next. Sleep seemed unnecessary just then, as well as undesirable. And as he stood there, innocent of all intention of eavesdropping, he had that rare experience of hearing history repeat itself. From around the bend of the corridor, out of sight, came the low but distinct whisper of the night nurse’s voice at the house ’phone.
“Miss Maxwell, Miss Maxwell, can you hear me? This is Miss Jacobs. Leerie went to Doctor Brainard’s room a half-hour ago. She’s still there.... All right.” And then the soft click of the receiver dropping into place.
Peter stiffened; his hands clenched. His first impulse was to creep ’round and quietly choke the tattle-tale breath out of Miss Jacobs. He knew how the little green-eyed nurse was gloating over this second incrimination of Leerie. But there was something more compelling to do first, something that could not wait. He slipped ’round through the supply-room and down the back stairs. He reached the first floor of the Surgical just as the superintendent of nurses appeared in the entrance.
“You!” demanded Miss Maxwell.
“No one else,” agreed Peter. “Suppose we go up together.”