"It is this operation that I wish you to perform for me," Keeshwar
said. "Would it not be simple to let your knife slip, or to allow
something to happen to her--for one million dollars!"
I do not remember clearly what happened next. I think I knocked the man
down. I do remember stuffing his million dollars into his brief case
and throwing it after him out of the door.
When I closed the door I was excited and unnerved. I found some
sedative tablets and swallowed one. Then I sat down to think. Trella
Mayo, beautiful, young and intelligent, a woman in a billion! Someone
wanted to kill her.
She was only twenty-eight, yet her discoveries in physics had astounded
the world. She might have taken first place in any beauty contest, yet
she preferred working in a laboratory with men too old to notice her
charms.
Her operation was not serious, except that it involved delicate skill.
I resolved that nothing must happen during that operation the following
day.
Two weeks later I visited Trella, now convalescing from her operation.
"I've wanted to talk to you, Fred," she said after I had taken her
temperature, felt her pulse and gone through the usual ritual.
"I must warn you that I'll send you a bill for any medical advice I
give you," I replied, laughing.
She smiled only a little and then puckered her brow seriously.
"I wanted to ask you about that operation. Wasn't it performed under
unusual circumstances?"
I was taken by surprise and I am afraid that the truth forced its
indications through my professional manner. "Why do you ask?"
"I noticed Blake standing near the door. There seemed to be a bulge
in his pocket. It couldn't have been a gun, could it? And you kept
watching, as if you were afraid a tribe of Indians would drop in for a
massacre. I wonder if there couldn't have been a tall, dark gentleman
mixed up in these unusual precautions?"