Then the small horse ambled
forward while the fat man leaned back in great distress.
"You recognize him, do you not?" smiled Ashton-Kirk.
"I do, now," returned Pendleton. "It's our friend Dr. Mercer."
When the buggy arrived at the spot where the motor-car stood, the
doctor regarded its occupants with some surprise.
"Good-morning," greeted Ashton-Kirk.
Painfully, gaspingly the other answered this in kind. The round white
face wore an expression of martyrdom.
"I am pleased to see you once more," said he.
"You like driving in the morning, then?" said the investigator.
The principal's flesh quivered with repulsion.
"It is an exercise ordered by my physician," he answered. "I protested
against it strongly, but he was obdurate. And I am compelled to do it
before I have had my breakfast," hollowly. "It is scarcely short of
barbarous."
Here the small horse stretched its neck and shook itself until the
harness rattled. Pendleton looking from master to beast thought they
might exchange places much to the master's ultimate well-being.
There was a short pause; then Dr. Mercer bent his head toward them.
"When you visited the institute a few nights ago," said he, "you also,
at my request, visited Professor Locke.
Pages:
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299