"I didn't know," he said, "that you were
a medical man."
Winthrop looked at the Doctor so steadily, and for so long
a time, that the eyes of the young man sought the floor and the
ceiling; and his sneer changed to an expression of discomfort.
"I am not," said Winthrop. "I am the District Attorney of New
York." His tones were cold, precise; they fell upon the
superheated brain of Dr. Rainey like drops from an icicle.
"When I took over that office," continued Winthrop, "I found a
complaint against two medical students, a failure to report the
death of an old man in a private sanitarium."
Winthrop lowered his eyes, and became deeply absorbed in the
toe of his boot. "I haven't looked into the papers, yet," he
said.
Rainey, swaying slightly, jerked open the door of the bedroom.
"I'll tell him," he panted thickly. "I'll tell him to do as you
say."
"Thank you, I wish you would," said Winthrop.
At the same moment, from the hall, Garrett announced, "Mrs.
Vance, sir." And Mabel Vance, tremulous and frightened, entered
the room.
Winthrop approached her eagerly.
"Ah! Mrs. Vance," he exclaimed, "can I see Miss Vera?"
Embarrassed and unhappy, Mrs. Vance moved restlessly from
foot to foot, and shook her head.
"Please, Mr. District Attorney," she begged. "I'm afraid not.
This afternoon upset her so. And she's so nervous and queer
that the Professor thinks she shouldn't see nobody."
"The Professor?" he commented.
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