The door opens suddenly and Miss Vincent sticks the curls which all the shop girls is copyin' around the side of it.
"Say!" pipes the Kid, grabbin' a pillow. "That old guy is game, eh?"
But this time a tall, solemn-lookin' guy breezes into the room and stares at me and the Kid with the same warm friendliness that a motorcycle cop regards a boob tryin' out a new auto. I figured he was the bird I had ordered by 'phone, and hit 1000 on the guess. He leans over the Kid, prods him around a bit, and then goes over him like he had lost somethin' and thought maybe he'd find it there. Then he straightens up and grunts.
"Hmph!" he says. "This man is a nervous wreck! Completely run down--needs rest and diet. I have my car outside and can take him over to the sanitarium, if--are you a relative?"
"His manager," I explains. "How about the arm, doc?"
"Nothing!" he says. "Wrenched--that's all. Come--help him downstairs, I'll wait."
"What do we owe you, doc?" I asks him, hopin' for the best.
"My consultation fee is fifty dollars!" he says, without battin' an eye.
"Every time you see me it's gonna set me back fifty?" asks the Kid, with tears in his voice.
"Couldn't I take some treatment by mail?" pipes Scanlan, hopefully.
"Cease!" I says, takin' out the old checkbook. "What's your name, doc?"
"What's the J stand for?" I asks, shakin' out the pen.
"Do you mean to insinuate that I'm robbing you?" says the doc, frownin' at him.
"No," says the Kid, takin' the check from me and handin' it to him, "I don't blame a guy for tryin', but--"
I shut him off and dragged him downstairs before they was any hard feelin's. We climbed in the doctor's bus and at the Kid's request, Miss Vincent come along with us. Then we went after the road record between Film City and the Hillcrest Sanitarium. I guess this doctor was born with a steerin' wheel in his hand, because we took some corners on that trip that would have worried a snake, and when he threw her in high, we breezed along so swift we could have made a bullet quit. Finally, we come to a great big buildin' all hedged off with an iron fence and if you've ever seen a souvenir post card with "Havin' a fine time. Wish you were here," on it, you know what it looked like.