And over everything a film of black grime, old and inescapable, like the dirt on the window sill beside her.
She thought of that vacation, clean air and clear sunshine. Why stay in Chicago? What did the town have to justify its existence? One decent boulevard, one decent suburb to the north, priced for the rich, two universities and a lake. As for the rest, endless miles of depressing, dirty streets. The town was one big stockyard.
The apartments gave way to elevated-train yards; the train turned left and headed east. After a few minutes they got off at Stoney Island station; she was glad to be off it and free of that too-frank back view of everyday life, even though she exchanged it for the noise and seedy commercialism of Sixty-third Street.
Potbury’s office faced on the street, with an excellent view of the elevated and the trains. It was the sort of location in which a G. P. could be sure of a busy practice and equally sure of never being bothered by riches or fame. The stuffy little waiting room was crowded but the turnover was fast; they did not have long to wait.
Potbury looked them over as they came in. “Which one of you is the patient?” he asked. His manner was slightly testy.
They had planned to lead up to the subject of Hoag by using Cynthia’s fainting spell as an excuse for consultation; Potbury’s next remark queered the scheme, from Cynthia’s viewpoint. “Whichever one it is, the other can wait outside. I don’t like holding conventions.”
“My wife-” Randall began. She clutched his arm.
“My wife and I,” he went on smoothly, “want to ask you a couple of questions, doctor.”
“Well? Speak up.”
“You have a patient-a Mr. Hoag.”
Potbury got up hastily, went to the reception-room door, and assured himself that it was closed tightly. He then stood and faced them, his back to the only exit. “What about-Hoag?” he said forebodingly.
Randall produced his credentials. “You can see for yourself that I am a proper inquiry agent,” he said. “My wife is licensed, too.”
“What do you have to do with-the man you mentioned?”
“We are conducting an investigation for him. Being a professional man yourself, you can appreciate that I prefer to be frank-”
“You work for him?”
“Yes and no. Specifically, we are trying to find out certain things about him, but he is aware that we are doing so; we aren’t going around behind his back. If you like, you can phone him and find out for yourself.” Randall made the suggestion because it seemed necessary to make it; he hoped that Potbury would disregard it.
Potbury did so, but not in any reassuring manner. “Talk with him? Not if I can help it! What did you want to know about him?”
“A few days ago,” Randall said carefully, “Hoag brought to you a substance to be analyzed. I want to find out what that substance was.”
“Hrrumph! You reminded me a moment ago that we were both professional men; I am surprised that you should make such a request.”
“I appreciate your viewpoint, doctor, and I know that a doctor’s knowledge of his patients is privileged. But in this case there is-”
“You wouldn’t want to know!”
Randall considered this. “I’ve seen a good deal of the seamy side of life, doctor, and I don’t think there is anything that can shock me any more. Do you hesitate to tell me in Mrs. Randall’s presence?”
Potbury looked him over quizzically, then surveyed Mrs. Randall. “You look like decent enough people,” he conceded. “I suppose you do think you are beyond being shocked. But let me give you some advice. Apparently you are connected in some way with this man. Stay away from him! Don’t have anything to do with him. And don’t ask me what he had under his fingernails.”
Cynthia suppressed a start. She had been keeping out of the conversation but following it carefully. As she remembered it, Teddy had made no mention of fingernails.
“Why, doctor?” Randall continued insistently.
Potbury was beginning to be annoyed. “You are a rather stupid young man, sir. Let me tell you this: If you know no more of this person than you appear to know, then you have no conception of the depths of beastliness possible in this world. In that you are lucky. It is much, much better never to know.”