Johnson Johnson 04 - Dolly and the Doctor Bird Read Free Page A

something stronger?”
    “The refreshment, so far as I know,” I said, “is on the British Overseas Airways; but please order whatever you wish. I do not take alcohol.”
    “Now that,” he said regretfully, “I should have guessed.”
    “And the message?” I said. The floor waiter appeared at the open door ; I gave him the order and he disappeared.
    “It’s an appeal, really, from patient to doctor,” Wallace Brady said. He had light brown hair and the type of thick skin which browns without burning; his eyes were light gray, almost white, the lids well opened. He was in my view too thin, but not otherwise ill-formed. When I refrained from speaking, his hand moved for the first time to his jacket pocket and then he removed it. “You don’t like smoke in your bedroom, I guess.”
    “The air conditioning will remove it,” I said, “if you cannot endure a conversation without it.”
    He looked at me thoughtfully, then smiling, leaned to one side and took a cigarette case from his pocket. “You’re a woman who knows her own mind,” he said. “Bart Edgecombe was right.”
    I waited.
    “The problem is,” said Brady, “that Bart wants to get back to Nassau. His wife’s there, Denise. I gather he doesn’t like to leave her for long. But the hospital isn’t keen.”
    “I should think not,” I said. I could see what was coming. I said, “I thought he lived in one of the Out Islands.”
    “He does. Great Harbour Cay. I’m working there myself at the moment — that’s how I know him. He came to New York for a couple of days and Denise took off for some shopping in Nassau and expected him back there tonight. The point is, he wants to get the eleven-thirty flight tomorrow morning, and if he does, would you look after him? He’ll go straight into the United Commonwealth, if need be, the moment he arrives.”
    The coffee came. I allowed Mr. Brady to tip the waiter, since his presence was entirely his responsibility, and poured. As I had hopes of being allowed to sleep at least part of the night, I made my own mostly hot milk. I said, “The hospital is perfectly right in not wishing Sir Bartholomew to travel. My advice would be to send for Lady Edgecombe instead.”
    The man Brady sipped his coffee and then sat and looked into it. “She’s highly strung,” he said. “He’s dead set on getting back with no fuss, and he has a great opinion of your abilities. When he heard what you did at the airport — ” He broke off. “He’s met you, you know. Don’t you remember?”
    “I have no clear recollection,” I said.
    “He came to the hospital in connection with the New Year parade, and you dealt with him then most efficiently, he says. That’s why he thought you might help him. Of course,” Mr. Brady said quickly, “I shall be on the plane, and Sergeant Trotter, who lent us a hand. But it would really set his mind at rest to have you, I can see that. And… I hope it won’t embarrass you, but I have to say that of course he will make up any difference between your fare and his own. I don’t suppose the hospital lets you travel in luxury.”
    They don’t. I only travel in luxury when I am traveling with my father, who used this method among many to promote me into a wealthy and suitable marriage. Since I broke the news to him that I do not intend to marry at all, he has traveled in luxury still more frequently, in an insane ambition to spend all the family wealth before it falls into the hands of his successor, the forty-sixth titular chieftain, one T. K. MacRannoch, a native of Tokyo.
    I felt that my broken night’s sleep entitled me at least to a first-class flight to the Bahamas. “Very well,” I said. “If you will kindly arrange to transfer my ticket. Tell Sir Bartholomew I shall call at the hospital at ten-fifteen a.m. The airport should be warned that he is a sick man, and they must waive all formalities.”
    “I’ll do that,” said Mr. Brady. He looked a trifle unsettled.
    “I