something that he saw--was it pity?--in the doctor's face made him white
and faint.

"You--you can't mean that I'm really ill?"

"You may live for years--with care."

"I shall get another opinion," said Peter Reid.

"Certainly--here, sit down." The doctor felt very sorry for this hard
little business man whose world had fallen about his ears. Peter Reid
sat down heavily on the chair the doctor gave him.

"I tell you, I don't feel ill--not to speak of. And I've no time to be
ill. I have a deal on just now that I stand to make thousands out
of--thousands, I tell you."

"I'm sorry," James Lauder said.

"Of course, I'll see another man, though it means throwing away more
money. But"--his face fell--"they told me you were the best man for the
heart.... Leave my work! The thing's ridiculous Patch me up and I'll go
on till I drop. How long do you give me?"

"As I said, you may live for years; on the other hand, you may go very
suddenly."

Peter Reid sat silent for a minute; then he broke out:

"Who am I to leave my money to? Tell me that."