“You gave him my card and note?”
“Certainly, sir. Will you wait? Dr. Steel should be back at any minute.”
Dr. Peterson glanced at his watch, and stepped like a dapper little bantam into the hall. His reddish hair was plastered from a broad pathway in the middle, so as to conceal the premature tendency to baldness that his pate betrayed. Dr. Peterson’s figure boasted a juvenile waist; his face, smooth and very sleek, almost suggested the craft of the beauty specialist. A red-and-green bandanna handkerchief protruded from his breast coat-pocket, an ?sthetic patch of color harmonizing with his sage-green tie. He wore black-and-white check trousers, patent-leather boots, and a tuberose in his button-hole. Moreover, his person smelled fragrantly of scent.
Dr. Peterson deposited his hat and gloves on the hall table.
“I can spare half an hour. My train goes at five. It is highly important that I should see Dr. Steel.”
“I will tell him, sir, the minute he returns,” and she showed Dr. Peterson into the drawing-room.
A bedroom bell rang as the stairs to the kitchen with her, he would sanction everything at oncehe answered.. She turned with a “Drat the thing!” and dawdled heavenward to her mistress’s room.
“Who has called, Symons?”
“Dr. Peterson, ma’am.”
“From Major Murray’s?”
“Yes, ma’am; wants to see the master, most particular.”
“Dr. Steel’s not in?”
“No, ma’am, but he left word that he would be at home about four.
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