CHAPTER 1JUDGE GARTH’S cold, ancient gray eyes met mine searchingly across the dusty ink-stained green baize top of his office table. A solitary blue-bottle barged in crazy circles, buzzing angrily, against the dingy window.
“Human life, Dr. Fisher,” he said in his relentless monotonous voice, “is sacred. Even women doctors must know that.”
“And I do know it, Judge Garth,” I answered, meeting his grim appraising scrutiny calmly. “If I’d got to Miss Wyndham’s in time to save her, I’d have done it—no matter what my personal feelings were. But I’m concerned chiefly with life, Judge Garth. I’m more moved when I hear the first cry of a new-born baby than I am at the rattle of death in an old man’s throat. That’s why I’m not sorry Miss Wyndham’s dead. Other people can live now.”
Not a muscle
