As the afternoon wore on, it became increasingly evident that somehow or other he must get a doctor.  He turned the subject over in his mind, pro and con.  If he could get a new man, one who did not remember Jud Clark, it might do.  But he hesitated until, at seven, Dick opened his eyes and clearly did not know him.  Then he knew that the matter was out of his hands, and that from now on whatever it was that controlled the affairs of men, David’s God or his own vague Providence, was in charge.

He got his hat and went out, and down the stairs again.  Wilkins had disappeared, but Bill still stood by the entrance, watching the crowd that drifted in and out.  In his state of tension he felt that the hotel clerk’s eyes were suspicious as he retained the two rooms for another day, and that Bill watched him out with more than casual interest.  Even the matter of cancelling the order for the car loomed large and suspicion-breeding before him, but he accomplished it, and then set out to find medical assistance.

There, however, chance favored him.  The first doctor’s sign led him to a young man, new to the town, and obviously at leisure.  Not that he found that out at once.  He invented a condition for himself, as he had done once before, got a prescription and paid for it, learned what he wanted, and then mentioned Dick.  He was careful to emphasize his name and profession, and his standing “back home.”

“I’ll admit he’s got me worried,” he finished.  “He saw me registered and came to my room this morning to see me, and got sick there.  That is, he said he had a violent headache and was dizzy.  I got him to his room and on the bed, and he’s been sleeping ever since.  He looks pretty sick to me.”

He was conscious of Bill’s eyes on him as they went through the lobby again, but he realized now that they were unsuspicious.  Bassett himself was in a hot sweat.  He stopped outside the room and mopped his face.

“Look kind of shot up yourself,” the doctor commented.  “Watch this sun out here.  Because it’s dry here you Eastern people don’t notice the heat until it plays the deuce with you.”

He made a careful examination of the sleeping man, while Bassett watched his face.

“Been a drinking man?  Or do you know?”

“No.  But I think not.  I gave him a small drink this morning, when he seemed to need it.”

“Been like this all day?”

“Since noon.  Yes.”

Once more the medical man stooped.  When he straightened it was to deliver Bassett a body blow.

“I don’t like his condition, or that twitching.  If these were the good old days in Wyoming I’d say he is on the verge of delirium tremens.  But that’s only snap judgment.  He might be on the verge of a good many things.  Anyhow, he’d better be moved to the hospital.  This is no place for him.”

And against this common-sense suggestion Bassett had nothing to offer.  If the doctor had been looking he would have seen him make a gesture of despair.