one of the
best. Don't...."

Whatever he had meant to say, he left unfinished because of the return
of the page with his Scotch; but he had said enough to let Whitaker
understand that he knew about the Carstairs affair.

"That's all right," said Whitaker; "I'm not going to make a damn' fool
of myself, but I am in a pretty bad way. Boy--"

"Hold on!" Peter interrupted. "You're not going to order another? What
you've had is enough to galvanize a corpse."

"Barring the negligible difference of a few minutes or months, that's
me," returned Whitaker. "But never mind, boy--run along."

"I'd like to know what you mean by that," Peter remarked, obviously
worried.

"I mean that I'm practically a dead man--so near it that it makes no
difference."

"The devil you say! What's the matter with you?"

"Ask Greyerson. I can't remember the name--it's too long--and I couldn't
pronounce it if I did."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "What foolishness has Greyerson been putting into
your head?" he demanded. "I've a good mind to go punch his--"

"It isn't his fault," Whitaker asserted. "It's my own--or rather, it's
something in the nature of a posthumous gift from my progenitors;
several of 'em died of it, and now it seems I must. Greyerson says so,
at least, and when I didn't believe him he called in Hartt and Bushnell
to hold my ante-mortem. They made it unanimous. If I'm uncommonly lucky
I may live to see next Thanksgiving."

"Oh, shut up!" Peter exploded viciously. "You make me tired--you and
your bone-headed M.D.'s!"

He worked himself into a comforting rage, damning the medical fraternity
liberally for a gang of bloodthirsty assassins and threatening to commit
assault and battery upon the person of Greyerson, though Whitaker did
his best to make him understand that matters were what they
were--irremediable.

"You won't find any higher authorities than Hartt and Bushnell," he
said. "They are the court of last resort in such cases. When they hand
down a decision, there's no come-back."

"You can't make me believe that," Peter insisted. "It just can't be so.
A man like you, who's always lived clean.... Why, look at your athletic
record! Do you mean to tell me a fellow could hold a job as undisputed
best all-round man in his class for four years, and all the time
handicapped by a constitutional...? Oh, get out! Don't talk to me. I'm
far more likely to be doing my bit beneath the daisies six months from
now.... I won't believe it