"Who else knows it's typhus, Doc?"
"Nobody but Merritt and me. You bound me in confidence, you know."
"Good man!"
"There's one other ought to know, though."
"Who's that?"
"Norman Hale."
"The Reverend Norman's all right. We could do with a few more ministers like him around the place. But why, in particular, should he know?"
"For one thing, he suspects, anyway. Then, he's down in the slums there most of the time, and he could help us. Besides, he's got some rights of safety himself. He's out in the reception room now, under guard of that man-eating office boy of yours."
"All right, if you say so."
Accordingly the Reverend Norman Hale was summoned, sworn to confidence, and informed. He received the news with a quiver of his long, gaunt features. "I was afraid it was something like that," he said. "What's to be done?"