"You won't have to
do anything except refrain from making a public fool of the man with any
kind of tricks about salmon for the next fortnight."
"What is it you're thinking of doing?" asked Doyle.
"The doctor," said Meldon, "will of course have to sign the death
certificate."
"I'll do that," said Dr. O'Donoghue, "as soon as ever you satisfy me that
the man's dead. If there isn't a hole drilled in his skull with a
bullet, I'll say it's heart failure that finished him. After the way he
behaved to me, I can't be expected to make a _post mortem_ of him. I
daresay the Major was telling you what he did."
"I hear he wanted you to put some ridiculous sanitary act in force
against poor Doyle. That, of course, was quite intolerable."
"There was worse besides that," said Dr. O'Donoghue gloomily.
"He had it put out against the doctor," said Doyle, "that old Biddy
Finnegan died for the want of proper medical attendance, and her a woman
of near ninety, that was bound to die any way, and would have died
sooner, most likely, if the doctor hadn't let her alone the way he did."
"That old woman," said the doctor, "wasn't neglected.
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