fee of $250. No checks, please, I hate to write my name on the back of a check almost as bad as I do on the front.’
“‘I’ve got the cash here,’ says the mayor, pulling a pocket book from under his pillow.
“He counts out five fifty-dollar notes and holds ’em in his hand.
“‘Bring the receipt,’ he says to Biddle.
“I signed the receipt and the mayor handed me the money. I put it in my inside pocket careful.
“‘Now do your duty officer,’ says the mayor grinning much unlike a sick man.
“Mr. Biddle lays his hand on my arm.
“‘You’re under arrest, Dr. Waugh-hoo, alias Peters,’ says he, ‘for practising medicine without authority under the State law.’
“‘Who are you?’ I asks.
“‘I’ll tell you who he is,’ says Mr. Mayor, sitting up in bed. ‘He’s a detective employed by the State Medical Society. He’s been following you over five counties. He came to me yesterday and we fixed up this scheme to catch you. I guess you won’t do any more doctoring around these parts, Mr. Fakir. What was it you said I had, doc?’ the mayor laughs, ‘compound—well it wasn’t softening of the brain, I guess, anyway.’
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