"Pretty good shape," he said. "How did you sleep?"
"Oh, occasionally," I replied. "I would like to sit up, doctor."
"Nonsense. Take a rest while you have an excuse for it. I wish to thunder I could stay in bed for a day or so. I was up all night."
"Have a drink," McKnight said, pushing over the bottle.
"Twins!" The doctor grinned.
"Have two drinks."
But the medical man refused.
"I wouldn't even wear a champagne-colored necktie during business hours," he explained. "By the way, I had another case from your accident, Mr. Blakeley, late yesterday afternoon. Under the tongue, please." He stuck a thermometer in my mouth.
I had a sudden terrible vision of the amateur detective coming to light, note-book, cheerful impertinence and incriminating data. "A small man?" I demanded, "gray hair—"
"Keep your mouth closed," the doctor said peremptorily. "No. A woman, with a frac-
