"I thank you, Mrs.
Close," he replied. "I am sure you will not regret your
permission. Would you be so kind as to give me a note to her?"
She rang, dictated a short note to a nurse, signed it, and
languidly dismissed us.
I don't know that I ever felt as depressed as I did after that
interview with one who had entered a living death to ambition,
for while Craig had done all the talking I had absorbed nothing
but depression. I vowed that if Gregory or anybody else was
responsible I would do my share toward bringing on him
retribution.
The Closes lived in a splendid big house in the Murray Hill
section. The presentation of the note quickly brought Mrs.
Close's maid down to us. She had not gone to the hospital because
Mrs. Close had considered the services of the trained nurses
quite sufficient.
Yes, the maid had noticed how her mistress had been failing, had
noticed it long ago, in fact almost at the time when she had
begun the X-ray treatment. She had seemed to improve once when
she went away for a few days, but that was at the start, and
directly after her return she grew worse again, until she was no
longer herself.
"Did Dr. Gregory, the X-ray specialist, ever attend Mrs. Close at
her home, in her room?" asked Craig.
"Yes, once, twice, he call, but he do no good," she said with her
French accent.
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