CHAPTER IX.A “FAIR” OFFER.
“Sit down and cool off,” Doctor Follansbee advised; and under his compelling gaze his visitor subsided and sank into a chair.
The head of St. Swithin’s Hospital studied Stone for some moments without showing the slightest sign of emotion as a result of the astounding proposition which had just been made to him. His long, capable, surgeon’s fingers tapped against one another, and his cold, dark eyes seemed to have no more feeling in them than a couple of highly polished stones.
“You take a great deal for granted, Mr. James Stone,” he remarked at last, in his thin, squeaking tones. “I might have you confined in an asylum for that, you know—or turned over to the police.”
“You might, but you won’t,” his caller said, with a half growl. “I’ve taken your measure, Fo
