"No," I said. "I feel pretty sure Milford's straight. Why did they try to poison him, otherwise, and why should he have waltzed in and lent me a hand the other night? I'm rather worried about it, Billy."
"Yes," said Billy. "It's awkward. What are you going to do?"
"I don't know," I said, getting out of bed. "I can't put the police on. We must wait and see—that's all."
"And, meanwhile," observed Billy, "let's have a look at that arm of yours."
He took off the bandage, and inspected the fruits of my last night's adventure with an approving eye.
"First chop," he pronounced. "Healed up as clean as a whistle. That's the result of having led a decent and moral life. I think we'll keep the bandage on to-day, however, just to make certain."
"Well, you can put it on again after I've had my bath," I said. "By the way, can you drive a car?"
Billy nodded. "I've done a lot of it. Buenos Ayres reeks with 'em at present."
"You can drive me down to-day, then," I remarked. "I'm not a professor at the best of times, and with this arm on me I'd rather be excused."
"You leave it to me," said Billy confidently.