The florid little man looked sincerely vexed.
“You ought to have mentioned it,” he said—“you ought to have mentioned it. I’m not so damned stingy as not to give a brother practitioner’s child a chance.”
Murchison lifted his head.
“Thanks,” he said. “I suppose it is too late now?”
His eyes met Dr. Tugler’s. The grim question in that look demanded the sheer truth. John Tugler understood it, and met it like a man.
“We can’t move her now,” he said.
“No.”
It is incredible what meaning a single word can carry. With Murchison that “no” meant the surrender of a life.
Dr. Tugler stared out of the window, and rattled his keys.
“Did you notice the squint?” he asked, softly.