A smile, gently satirical, played over Varge's lips and crept into his eyes, as he looked at the doctor.
"Did the governor specify that, too—that I must give my reasons?" he asked dryly.
Doctor Kreelmar's face puckered up instantly, ferociously.
"Confound you!" he snapped. "Sometimes I'd like to wring your confounded neck!—and sometimes—hum!—I wouldn't! Well, well go at once, this afternoon; and if the warden says so, I'll drive you over in my buggy."
Without waiting for any reply. Doctor Kreelmar strode out of the laboratory and down the corridor. A guard opened the steel gates for him and he passed through into the entrance hallway beyond, and turned into the warden's office.
"He'll go!" he announced tersely, halting before the warden's desk; then, with a glance toward Stall, the clerk: "Better give him some ordinary clothes to wear, hadn't you? There's no use making him conspicuous over there in the town or in front of her—what?"
"Yes," said Warden Rand. "Stall, get what's necessary." He waited until the clerk had gone out of the room, then he looked searchingly at the doctor. "I didn't think he'd be willing to go," he said suggestively.
"Nor I," said Doctor Kreelmar.
"Did you tell him Mrs. Merton was dying?"
"No—that she was very ill."
"Did he ask why she wanted to see him?"
"No," replied the doctor; "and I didn't tell him. He just looked out of the window for a moment with his back turned to me after I told him she wanted to see
