Having lunched, he went to his office where he found O’Farrell waiting.  The politician greeted him with a mixture of deference and familiarity.  At one stage of their acquaintance familiarity had predominated, when having put through a petty but particularly rancid steal for the benefit of the Certina business, O’Farrell had become inspired with effusiveness to the extent of addressing his patron as “Doc.”  He never made that particular error again.  Yet, to the credit of Dr. Surtaine’s tact and knowledge of character be it said, O’Farrell was still the older man’s loyal though more humble friend, after the incident.  To-day he was plainly apprehensive.

“Them other cases the same thing?” he asked.

“Yes, O’Farrell.”

“What is it?”

“That I can’t tell you.”

“You went in and saw ’em?”

Dr. Surtaine nodded.

“By God, I wouldn’t do it,” declared O’Farrell, shivering.  “I wouldn’t go in there, not to collect the rent!  It’s catching, ain’t it?”

“In all probability it is a contagious or zymotic disease.”

The politician shook his head, much impressed, as it was intended he should be.

“Cleaning-up time for you, I guess, O’Farrell,” pursued the other.

“All right, if you say so.  But I won’t have any Board o’ Health snitches bossing it.  They’d want to pull the whole row down.”

“Exactly what ought to be done.”

“What!  And it averagin’ better’n ten per cent,” cried the agent in so scandalized a tone that the Doctor could not but smile.

“How have you managed to keep them out, thus far?”

“Haven’t.  There’s been a couple of inspectors around, but I stalled ’em off.  And we got the sick cases out right from under ’em.”

“Dr. Merritt is a hard man to handle if he once gets started.”

“He’s got his hands full.  The papers have been poundin’ him because his milk regulations have put up the price.  Persecution of the dairymen, they call it.  Well, persecution of an honest property owner—­with a pull—­won’t look pretty for Mr. Health Officer if he don’t find nothing there.  And the papers’ll back me.”

“Ellis of the ‘Clarion’ has his eye on the place.”

“You can square that through your boy, can’t you?”

The Doctor had his own private doubts, but didn’t express them.  “Leave it to me,” he said.  “Get some disinfectants and clean up.  Your owners can stand the bill—­at ten per cent.  Much obliged for coming in, O’Farrell.”

As the politician went out an office girl entered and announced: 

“There’s a man out in the reception hall, Doctor, waiting to see you.  He’s asleep with his elbow on the stand.”

“Wake him up and ask him for his berth-check, Alice,” said Dr. Surtaine, “and if he says his name is Ellis, send him in.”

Ellis it was who entered and dropped into the chair pushed forward by his host.