Drying his hands on an old, threadbare towel, Doc Wilson came out of his surgery and stopped when he saw the slightly built man in the dark-coloured tailcoat, pin-striped trousers and frilled shirt standing at the end of the hallway.
The stranger was grinning. “Howdy,” he greeted him.
“Can I help you with anything, mister?” asked Wilson, drying his hands with deliberate slowness now, his eyes locked on those of the stranger.
“Could be. You have a patient, under your care – big man, badly beaten.”
“Yes, I do. Is he … a friend of yours?”
“No, not exactly. I believe he had a companion, however. A companion who brought him here?”
“Yes.” Wilson took the towel and folded it neatly. “A most objectionable gentleman who took umbrage at something I said.”
“An insult?”
“He took it as such, al
