Parker Steel had closed the door. He looked irritable and restless, a man jealous of his self-esteem.
“Well? Anything wrong?”
The big man turned with his hands in his trousers pockets. Steel did not like the serious expression of his face.
“Have you examined Miss Pennington’s eyes?”
Parker Steel shifted from foot to foot.
“Well, no,” he confessed, with an attempt at hauteur, “I know the woman’s eccentricities. She may be slightly myopic—”
Murchison drew a deep breath.
“She may be stark blind in a week,” he said, curtly.
“What!”
“Acute glaucoma.”