, don't you?"

"He'd be that anyway," said she confidently.

Burns smiled, but the smile faded quickly. He gave a few brief
directions, then slipped away as quietly as he had come.

* * * * *

It was well into the next week when one morning he encountered Jordan
King, who had been out of town for several days. King came up to him
eagerly. Since this meeting occurred just outside the hospital, where
Burns's car had been standing in its accustomed place for the last hour,
it might not have been a wholly accidental encounter.

King made no attempt to maneuver for information. Maneuvering with Red
Pepper Burns, as the young man was well aware, seldom served any
purpose but to subject the artful one to a straight exposure. He asked
his question abruptly.

"I want to hear how Miss Linton is doing. I'm just back from
Washington--haven't heard for a week."

Burns frowned. No physician likes to be questioned about his cases,
particularly if they are not progressing to suit him. But he answered,
in a sort of growl: "She's not doing."

King looked startled. "You mean--not doing well?"

"She's fighting for existence--and--slipping."

"But--you haven't given her up?"

Burns exploded with instant wrath. King might have known that question
would make him explode. "Given her up! Don't you know a red-headed fiend
like me better than that?"

"I know you're a bulldog when you get your teeth in," admitted Jordan
King, looking decidedly unhappy and anxious. "If I'm just sure you've
got 'em in, that's enough."

Burns grunted. The sound was significant.

King ventured one more question, though Red Pepper's foot was on his
starter, and the engine had caught the spark and turned over. "If
there's anything I could do," he offered hurriedly and earnestly.
"Supply a special nurse, or anything--"

Burns shook his head. "Two specials now, and half the staff interested.
It's up to Anne Linton and nobody else. If she can do the trick--she and
Nature--all right. If not--well--Thanks for letting go the car, Jord.
This happens to be my busy day."

Jordan King looked after him, his heart uncomfortably heavy. Then he
stepped into his own car and drove away, taking his course down a side
street from which he could get a view of certain windows. They were wide
open to the May breeze and the sunshine, but no pots of daffodils or
other flowers stood on their empty sills. He knew it was useless to send
them no