I asked anxiously:

"Isn't there something that can be done - something in the way of treatment - " He shook his head.

"Nothing doing. He's got ampoules of amyl nitrite to use when he feels an attack is coming on."

Then he said a rather curious thing.

"Got a very great respect for human life, hasn't he?"

"Yes - I suppose he has."

How often had I not heard Poirot say: "I do not approve of murder." That understatement, made so primly, had always tickled my fancy. Franklin was going on:

"That's the difference between us. I haven't... !" I looked at him curiously. He inclined his head with a faint smile.

"Quite true," he said. "Since death comes anyway, what does it matter if it comes early or late? There's so little difference."

"Then what on earth made you become a doctor if you feel like that?" I demanded with some indignation.

"Oh, my dear fellow - doctoring isn't just a matter of dodging the ultimate end - it's a lot more - it's improving living. If a healthy man dies, it doesn't matter - much. If an imbecile - a cretin - dies, it's a good thing - but if by the discovery of administering the correct gland you turn your cretin into a healthy, normal individual by correcting his thyroid deficiency, that, to my mind, matters a good deal."

I looked at him with more interest. I still felt that it would not be Dr. Franklin I should call in if I had the influenza, but I had to pay tribute to a kind of white-hot sincerity and a very real force in the man. I had noticed a change in him since his wife's death. He had displayed few of the conventional signs of mourning. On the contrary he seemed more alive, less absent-minded, and full of a new energy and fire.

He said abruptly, breaking into my thoughts:

"You and Judith aren't much alike, are you?"

"No, I suppose we're not."

"Is she like her mother?"

I reflected, then slowly shook my head.

"Not really. My wife was a merry, laughing creature. She wouldn't take anything seriously - and tried to make me the same, without much success, I'm afraid." He smiled faintly.

"No, you're rather the heavy father, aren't you? So Judith says. Judith doesn't laugh much - serious young woman. Too much work, I expect. My fault." He went into a brown study. I said conventionally:

"Your work must be very interesting."

"Eh?"

"I said your work must be interesting."

"Only to about half a dozen people. To everybody else it's darned dull - and they're probably right. Anyway" - he flung his head back, his shoulders squared themselves, he suddenly looked what he was, a powerful and virile man - "I've got my chance now! God, I could shout aloud. The Minister Institute people let me know today. The job's still open and I've got it. I start in ten days' time."