U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [562]
." Colonel Judson patted both J. W. and Dick affectionately on the shoulder with his two hands in the same gesture. Chewing his cigar he eased out of the door leaving a broad smile behind him and a puff of rank blue smoke.
Dick turned to J. W. who had sunk down in a red plush chair. "Are you sure you're feeling al right, J. W.?""It's just a little indigestion," J. W. said in a weak voice, his face twisted with pain, gripping the arms of the chair with both hands. "Wel , I guess we'd better al turn in," said Dick. "But, J. W., how about getting a doctor in to take a look at you in the morning?" "We'l see, goodnight," said J. W., talking with difficulty with his eyes closed. Dick had just got to sleep when a knocking on his door woke him with a start. He went to the door in his bare feet. It was Morton, J. W.'s elderly cockney valet. "Beg pardon, sir, for waking you, sir," he said. "I'm worried
-508-about Mr. Moorehouse, sir. Dr. Gleason's with him. . . . I'm afraid it's a heart attack. He's in pain something awful, sir." Dick put on his purple silk bathrobe and his slippers and ran into the drawingroom of the suite where he met the doctor. "This is Mr. Savage, sir," said the valet. The doctor was a greyhaired man with a grey mustache and a portentous manner. He looked Dick fiercely in the eye as he spoke: "Mr. Moorehouse must be absolutely quiet for some days. It's a very light angina pectoris . . . not seri-ous this time but a thorough rest for a few months is in-dicated. He ought to have a thorough physical examination
. . . talk him into it in the morning. I believe you are Mr. Moorehouse's business partner, aren't you, Mr. Savage?" Dick blushed. "I'm one of Mr. Moorehouse's col aborators.""Take as much off his shoulders as you can." Dick nodded. He went back to his room and lay on his bed the rest of the night without being able to sleep. In the morning when Dick went in to see him J. W.
was sitting up in bed propped up with pil ows. His face was a rumpled white and he had violet shadows under his eyes. "Dick, I certainly gave myself a scare." J. W.'s voice was weak and shaking, it made Dick feel almost tearful to hear it. "Wel , what about the rest of us?""Wel , Dick, I'm afraid I'm going to have to dump E. R. Bingham and a number of other matters on your shoulders. . . . And I've been thinking that perhaps I ought to change the whole capital structure of the firm. What would you think of Moorehouse, Griscolm and Savage?""I think it would be a mistake to change the name, J. W. After al J. Ward Moorehouse is a national institution."
J. W.'s voice quavered up a little stronger. He kept having to clear his throat. "I guess you're right, Dick," he said. "I'd like to hold on long enough to give my boys a start in life."
"What do you want to bet you wear a silk hat at my funeral, J. W.? In the first place it may have been an
-509-attack of acute indigestion just as you thought. We can't go on merely one doctor's opinion. What would you think of a little trip to the Mayo clinic? Al you need's a little overhauling, valves ground, carburetor adjusted, that sort of thing. . . . By the way, J. W., we wouldn't want Mr. Bingham to discover that a mere fifteenthousandayear man was handling his sacred proprietary medicines, would we?" J. W. laughed weakly. "Wel , we'l see about that. . . . I think you'd better go on down to New York this morn-ing and take charge of the office. Miss Wil iams and I wil hold the fort here. . . . She's sour as a pickle but a treas-ure,