"If he's just on time, then I'm late," he remarked. "Let's go. If I'm not there after supper, fellows, you'll know why." He had approximately a mile to go, almost as far as Bob. Even Colby, who lived nearest to Hay, wasted no time, and the three machines rolled swiftly down the road. Bob had no means of telling how the others made out, but he had to get his own meal from the refrigerator and wash his dishes afterward.
Only Hay was waiting for him when he finally got out; and, though they remained for some time, neither of the others appeared. There had been ultimatums dangling over their heads for some time on the late-for-meals matter, and apparently the ax had fallen.
Eventually Norman and Robert decided there was no use waiting any longer and set out for the doctor's. He was in, as usual, though they had half-expected he might be at the Malmstroms'. It had not occurred to Hay to look up their drive to see whether his vehicle was present.
"Hello, gents; come in, Business is getting really brisk today. What can I do for you?"
"We were wondering if it was all right for Shorty to have visitors," replied Hay. "We just heard he was sick a little while ago and thought we'd better ask you before we went to his house."
"This was a good idea. I should think there would be no harm in your seeing him-you can't catch malaria just by breathing the same air. He's not very sick now-we have drugs that knock out our friend the plasmodium quite thoroughly these days. His temperature was down some time ago; I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."
"Thanks a lot, Doctor." It was Bob who spoke. "Norm, if you want to start along I'll be with you in a minute. There's something I want to check here."
"Oh, I don't mind waiting," replied Hay disconcertingly. Bob blinked, and for a moment found himself at a loss. The doctor filled the gap.
"I think Bob means that work has to be done on that leg of his, Norman," he said. "I'd prefer to work on that without witnesses, if you don't mind."
"But-well, I was sort of-that is, I wanted to see you about something too."
"I'll wait outside till you're done," said Bob, rising.
"No, that's all right. It may take a while. Maybe you'd better know anyway; I might have done the same thing to you. Stick around." Hay turned back to Dr. Seever. "Sir, could you tell me just what malaria feels like?"
"Well, I've never had it myself, thank goodness. It shows a period of chills. Then those die away, and usually alternate with fever and sweating, sometimes bad enough for the patient to be delirious; the whole thing has a fairly definite period, caused by the life cycle of the protozoan responsible for the disease. When a new batch of the organisms develop, the whole business starts over."
"Are the chills and fever always bad-that is, bad enough to make a person really sick?-or might he have it a long time without noticing it much?" The doctor frowned as he began to get an inkling of what the boy was driving at. Bob tightened up as though it were the last period of a tied hockey game-it was worse for him, since he had a piece of information not yet known to the doctor.
"Sometimes it seems to remain dormant for a long time, so that people who have had the disease once break out with the symptoms again years later. There's been some argument about how that happens, though, and I don't recall hearing of a person who was a carrier who had not had the symptoms at some time or other."
Hay frowned also, and seemed undecided how to phrase his next remark.
"Well," he said at last, "Bob said something about your not being sure where Shorty picked up the germ. I know it's carried by mosquitoes, and they have to get it from someone who already has malaria. I'm afraid that's me."
"Young man, I was around when you let out your first squall, and I've known you ever since. You've never had malaria."
"I've never been sick with it. I can remember having chills-and-fever sessions like you described, but they never lasted long and were never bad enough to bother me much -I just sort of felt queer. I never mentioned 'em to anyone, because I didn't think much of 'em, and didn't want to complain about something that seemed so small. Then, when Bob told us the story this afternoon, all the things I'd read and the things I remembered sort of ran together, and I thought I'd better see you. Can't you check some way to see if I really have it?"
"Personally, I think your idea is all wet, Norman, my boy; of course, with malaria so nearly wiped out, I don't pretend to be an expert on it, but I don't recall any case such as yours would be. However, if it will make you happy, I can take a blood specimen and have a look for our friend the plasmodium."
"I wish you would."
The two listeners did not know whether to be more worried or astonished at Norman's words and actions. Not only did they promise, if the boy were right, to remove him from the list of suspects, they also seemed out of character. The sight of a fourteen-year-old boy displaying what amounted to adult powers of analysis and social consciousness startled the doctor exceedingly and seemed odd even to Bob, who had always been fully aware of the fact that Norman was younger than he.
As a matter of fact, it was out of character; had the victim of the disease not been one of his best friends, Hay probably would not have devoted enough thought to the matter to recall his childhood chills; and if he had, it is more than doubtful whether he would have reported them to the doctor. At the present his conscience was bothering him; it is very probable that if he had not seen the doctor that night he would have changed his mind about doing so at all before morning. However that may be, he was now almost as eager as Seever drew the blood sample-whether or not he was responsible for Malmstrom's illness, he could feel that he was doing something to help.
"It will take quite a while to check," said the doctor. "If you have it at all, it must be very mild, and I might have to do a serum test as well. If you don't mind, I'd like to look over Bob's leg before I get to work on it. All right?"
Norman nodded, with a rather disappointed air, and, remembering the earlier conversation, got up and went reluctantly out the door. "Don't be too long, Bob," he called back. "I'll go slow."
The door closed behind him, and Bob turned instantly to the doctor. "Never mind my leg, if you ever meant to do anything to it. Let's find out about Norman! If he's right, it scratches him too!"
"That had occurred to me," replied Seever. "That's why I took so much blood-that serum-test story I told Norman was simply an excuse, though I suppose it wasn't necessary. I may want the Hunter to do some checking too."
"But he doesn't know the malaria parasite, at least not first-hand."
"If necessary, I'll get some from Malmstrom for him to compare. However, I'll do a microscopical right now. The trouble is, I wasn't kidding about the probable mildness of his case; I might look over a dozen slides or a hundred without seeing the parasite. That's why I wanted the Hunter-he can check the whole sample, if necessary, much faster than I can. I remember that trick of his you mentioned, of neutralizing the leucocytes in your body. If he can do that, he can look over every last one of these blood cells-or smell them, or whatever he does-in jig time." The doctor fell silent, brought out microscope and other apparatus, and set to work.
After two or three slides he looked up, stretched, and said, "Maybe one reason I'm not finding anything is because I don't expect to." He bent to his work again. Bob had time to think that Norman must long since have grown tired of waiting and gone on to pay his visit alone, when Seever finally straightened up once more.