k was back on his face.

"Frank--what is it?"

The look stayed. "I don't know."

"Something's bothering you."

"It seems to be. But I don't know what it is."

"Did it happen at the hospital?"

He frowned. "I guess it must have. It's been bugging me since--"

Rhoda showed concern. "Did it have to do with a patient?"

"Patients are all I work with. Let's see--" He stopped and his frown
deepened. "It was that damned accident case. Broken leg. I set it and
put him in ward five. I--"

His frown deepened as he sat up. "Uh-huh. It was that damned pulse.
That's it. There was something wrong. That pulse was even and steady
but, Goddamn it, something was wrong!" He got to his feet. "Baby--I've
got to go back to Park Hill."

"Do you want to take the car or shall I drive you?"

"You drive," he said absently as he got up from the sofa and reached for
his necktie.

* * * * *

Frank hurried in through the emergency entrance and went to the
admissions desk. A kindly, gray-haired nurse was working with papers and
she dug deep into the pile in response to Frank's query.

"We didn't find much on him. An identification card with the name
William Matson. Nothing else except a wallet initialed W. M. containing
thirty-six dollars in cash."

"_Nothing_ else?"

The gray-haired nurse shook her head. "No social security number, no
driver's license, no home or business address."

"Damned odd, don't you think?"

"Not at Park Hill. We get them in here without a blessed thing but their
clothing. In fact, two weeks ago the boys picked up a stark-naked blonde
out of a car crash on East River Drive."

Frank grinned automatically, but the grin fell from his face like a mask
the moment he turned from the desk. He went through the locker room and
got his stethoscope on the way to Ward Five.

The patient known to the hospital as William Matson lay quietly on his
back, staring at the ceiling. Frank checked the clipboard. There were no
notations but his own. He went around the bed and stood looking down at
the patient.

"Feeling better?"

"I feel all--right."

_There's some sort of a speech block here_, Frank thought as he bent
over and lowered the sheet. "I'm just doing a little checking," he said
casually. "No cause for alarm."

"I am not--alarmed."

Corson frowned slightly as he concentrated on his work. He went over the
patient's torso, up and down, back and forth. At times he straightened