A grunt escaped the set lips of Dr. Harold Barton, Pediatrician-in-Chief.
"Dr. James came to us from the Johns Hopkins Medical School and is one of our best," Cub defended.
"And the other death?" Dr. Virginus Peters, Ophthalmologist-in-Chief, asked, fingering his Sons of Cincinnati rosette which in the private opinion of the majority of the staff should have been a dollar mark. His face was as open as a peach blossom.
With a careful politeness Cub Sterling answered:
"The second was a heart case of a certain type. Also a very good prognosis. Nothing to interfere with an ultimate and complete recovery. She was put in the bed the night after the goitre died. A whole day was given to a complete and thorough examination and the findings were as stated. Upon the second night, Saturday, the nurse saw her at twelve and at one. She died, suddenly, between then and daylight."
"Any autopsies?" Dr. Peters' face photographed emotions as a stage does lighting effects. It now held interest.
Cub stalled for self-control by lighting a cigarette. MacArthur and Bear Sterling watched carefully. When the cigarette was smoking Cub replied:
"No, Dr. Peters. Not on the first one. We thought that was a 'fade-out.' Upon the second there was a thorough autopsy. Father did it."
Princeton Peters turned his lavender eyes upon Dr. Ethridge Sterling, Senior.
The only man in the room who appeared to have no interest in the question was Dr. Harrison. He was scrutinizing the shadows of the afternoon sun upon the tops of the trees outside.
Doctors Peters, Hoffbein, Barton, and Paton sat, as much as their respective builds allowed, upon the edges of their chairs, and looked at Bear Sterling.
Bear Sterling resembled his famous nickname. But as the years wore on, it should have been changed to Polar-Bear. He riveted his decisive steel-gray eyes into Peters and growled:
MacArthur, who had sat by judicially, started to close the conference.
Prissy Paton, who had been an obstetrician and gynecologist so long that the staff had grown to consider him partly feminine, blocked MacArthur's move with his high, soothing purr:
"What do you think is back of it, Ethridge?"
"Can't seem to find anything, physically, sir."
Dr. Harrison continued contemplating the leaves. Dr. MacArthur realized the thing must be seen through and settled back in his chair.