Means Davis GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers · · New York COPYRIGHT, 1934, BY HARRISON SMITH AND ROBERT HAAS, INC. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA COPYRIGHT, 1934, BY HARRISON SMITH AND ROBERT HAAS, INC. PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA To Donald, Gerald and Jimmy...

“Docterr Ste-earling, Junyior, Doct-terr Eth-err-ridge Ste-earling, Junyior. Calling Doct-terr....” The loud speaker whined through laboratories, permeated kitchens, rasped in corridors. In the service corridor of Medicine Clinic the orderly rolling the laundry bin halted to listen and expectorate. Four floors above, Cub Sterling pulled in his long stride and reached for a nurse’s desk ’phone. His voice pushed through the mouthpiece and almost immediately severed the monotonous breathing of the

“The hospital is facing a future which cannot be prophesied. So far, we are running no more than the usual deficit and our problem will not be how to continue on our course, but rather how to meet the increasing demands which, in such a year, automatically become our lot. That, from the administrative side, is the situation, gentlemen. “It is, of course, a condition of which you are too painfully aware; but I conclude the conference with the mention of it, because it has been upon the ability to

Bear Sterling was tilted back in the desk chair. The half-egg-shell ceiling light blazed in his face. He wore the surgeons’ apron in which he had performed the autopsy. His lower jaw lay relaxed against the cushions of his chins. His eyes were peacefully closed. He was asleep. When the Elijah Wilson had been founded he had been the youngest surgeon, and had learned to sleep between crises. He did it automatically, naturally and silently. Cub Sterling had twined himself around an uncomfortable of

Bear Sterling hurried back to take a look at his brain tumor. He had stopped for a few words with Cub, but Cub had insisted that he must get back to his clinic and relieve Mattus. So after finishing with the brain tumor, which was coming along nicely, Bear went to his own office, shut the door, lay down upon a couch and went to sleep. There was a crisis ahead. He needed a nap. Dr. Barton did his rounds, discussed three unusual children with his resident, did as much work and appeared as natural

“Miss Kexter,” Miss Kerr still bore her rump and bust inflated, “this is the new patient for Ward B.” Beside her stood Rose Standish. She wore a plain blue coat suit and a small black hat pulled down to her gray eyes. Miss Kexter turned from Miss Kerr and looked at her. “Hullo, Miss Standish,” she said. “You sick?” and reached for the small suitcase. “Hope not ... much,” Miss Standish’s ivory face was somber. “Dr. Sterling thinks I may have a bum lung. In for observation.” They walked into the w

At nine o’clock Dr. Harrison entered the hospital through the accident room door and started up the main corridor. The last of the nurses and internes were returning from breakfast, the morning sun as they passed the occasional windows was picking each face out of its oblivion and then throwing it back again. Dr. Harrison shivered. The faces looked as the faces did upon the streets of every city in the United States the morning after the Lindbergh baby had been found.... The cynically young, the

Dr. MacArthur flapped the yellow telegram helplessly and wondered how to face them. Through some pull or other they had made the mail plane from New York and would be in his office in fifteen minutes. Two men and a woman. Three detectives; and he had never faced a detective in his life. How did a man treat detectives? Must one defer, or order? Probably Harrison would know. A urologist had every profession in his grip sooner or later. He reached for the telephone. Dr. Harrison laughed at the ques

Matthew Higgins laid down The Morning Call and smiled vaguely. It had been a long time since he was in the Middle West, and you got out of the way of remembering it. He finished his coffee, motioned for his check, paid it, leaned over the bar and said: “That’s the best coffee roll I ever had outside of Paul’s.” Otto beamed and cocked his head slowly. “Fank you! Fen I fus cum to dis country, I vork in Paul’s. Two vyears.” Matt put his weight in his shoulders and his voice was admiring. “Why did y

“Roll ’em up, Snod! Time to get up!” Snod opened his eyelids narrowly and then closed them again. He began experimenting slowly with his head, burying his chin in his long neck and stretching his shoulder muscles. “Any news?” his voice was still somnambulant. “Lots! Got your wits about you?” Matt Higgins began pulling himself up on one of the stools and his voice was grating. The old deserted laboratory building was on the side of the hospital where no afternoon sun ever penetrated. It was now i

As the taxi woggled downhill, Jumbo’s words pushed past the busy clicking of the meter into Sally’s weary brain. Once inside her consciousness, they rolled around like brightly colored Christmas tree balls, and butted into each other and crashed. Far down beneath the shattering concussions her mind began reverberating: “Think it over, think it over, think it over.” Twice she decided to go to Bucks and then she knew it would be hopeless. They couldn’t help if a big story broke. They didn’t make t