“Dad, when you made your report for the ‘Clarion’ did you tell us all you knew?”

“All except some medical technicalities,” said the Doctor, who never told a lie when a half-lie would serve.

“I’ve just had a talk with the health officer, Dr. Merritt.”

“Merritt’s an alarmist.”

“He’s alarmed this time, certainly.”

“What does he think it is?”

“It?” said Hal, a trifle maliciously.  “The epidemic?”

“Epidemic’s a big word.  The sickness.”

“How can he tell?  He’s had no chance to see the cases.  They still mysteriously disappear before he can get to them.  By the way, your Dr. De Vito seems to have a hand in that.”

“Hal, I wish you’d get over your trick of seeing a mystery in everything,” said his father with a mild and tempered melancholy.  “It’s a queer slant to your brain.”

“There’s a queer slant to this business of the Rookeries somewhere, but I don’t think it’s in my brain.  Merritt says the Mayor is holding him off, and he believes that Tip O’Farrell, agent for the Rookeries, has got the Mayor’s ear.  He wants to force the issue by quarantining the whole locality.”

“And advertise to the world that there’s some sort of contagion there!” cried Dr. Surtaine in dismay.

“Well, if there is—­”

“Think of Old Home Week,” adjured his father.

“The whole thing would be stamped out long before then.”

“But not the panic and the fear of it.  Hal, I do hope you aren’t going to take this up in the ‘Clarion.’”

“Not at present.  There isn’t enough to go on.  But we’re going to watch, and if things get any worse I intend to do something.  So much I’ve promised Merritt.”

The result of this conversation was that Dr. Surtaine called a special meeting of the Committee on Arrangements for Old Home Week.  In conformity with the laws of its genus, the committee was made up of the representative business men of the city, with a clergyman or two for compliment to the Church, and most of the newspaper owners or editors, to enlist the “services of the press.”

Its chairman was thoroughly typical of the mental and ethical attitude of the committee.  He felt comfortably assured that as he thought upon any question of local public import, so would they think.  Nevertheless, he didn’t intend to tell them all he knew.  Such was not the purpose of the meeting.  Its real purpose, not to put too fine a point on it, was to intimidate the newspapers, lest, if the “Clarion” broke the politic silence, others might follow; and, as a secondary step, to furnish funds for the handling of the Rookeries situation.  Since Dr. Surtaine designed to reveal as little as possible to his colleagues, he naturally began his speech with the statement that he would be perfectly frank with them.

“There’s more sickness than there ought to be in the Rookeries district,” he proceeded.  “It isn’t dangerous, but it may prove obstinate.  Some sort of malarious affection, apparently.  Perhaps it may be necessary to do some cleaning up down there.  In that case, money may be needed.”