“Indeed I should,” Herriard answered readily. “I have been reproaching myself for having let the opportunity of obtaining your advice so far slip by.”
Dr. Hallamar took out his note-book. “Will you give me your friend’s name and address?”
In a moment the idea of caution, which Gastineau’s position imposed, flashed upon Herriard. “Would you mind my leaving the matter for an hour or two?” he suggested. “I hope I do not seem ungracious, but perhaps I ought to speak to my friend first, although it is not conceivable that he could have any objection to putting himself under your treatment. I am going to see him directly, and will leave a message at your hotel later in the evening.”
There was a curious look in the Professor’s eyes as he returned the note-book to his pocket, a look into which Herriard read a little pique at his seemingly unreasonable hesitation. But he misread it.
“I presume,” said Herriard, as they turned and walked together towards Piccadilly, “you have found some interesting cases to have kept you over here so long?”
“I have,” Hallamar answered with some reserve. “It has been to my advantage to stay here.”
“Ah, bigger fees than at home,” Herriard said to himself. “You have, I suppose, the monopoly of your treatment?” he added aloud.
“Certainly I have,” the Doctor replied, a little tartly. “Why should I not reap the reward of my discovery? The attitude of the medical profession, here especially, is antagonistic to innovation and novelty. I meet them in their own spirit. They withheld recognition, I withhold my secret.”
“One cannot blame you. But surely, Professor, they recognize the results of your treatment?”
Hallamar gave a shrug. “Grudgingly, oh, yes. Naturally they hate a man to succeed where they must fail. It shows up their incompetence. Now, tell me, this friend of yours. How long has he been afflicted?”