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"By the dead flies, the effect upon the bell-boy, and the fact that no wound was found on the body. Then, too, there was the fulminate of mercury shell." "Of what possible use was that?" asked Professor Gehren. "A question that I've asked myself, sir, a great many times over in the last twenty-four hours. Perhaps Mr. Smith could answer that best.
"If H. C. indicates Harvey Craig, as I infer," said Professor Gehren impatiently, "are you so infantile as to suppose that his murderer will give information about him?" Average Jones smiled, drew a letter from his pocket, glanced at it and called for a number in Hackensack. "Take the 'phone, Professor Gehren," he said, when the reply came. "It's the Cairnside Hospital.
The next step," he observed, as they walked slowly up the street, "is by train. Want to take a short trip to-morrow, Bert? Or, perhaps, several short trips?" "Whither away, fair youth?" "To the place where the fake 'Smith' and the lost Craig have been doing their little stunts." "I thought you said Professor Gehren couldn't tell you where Craig had gone." "No more he could.
"When may I see him?... Very well. I will visit the hospital to-morrow morning. Thank you.... I should have expected that you would notify me of his, presence." intervened, then "Good-by." "It is most inexplicable," declared Professor Gehren, turning to the others.
"Yes; it is that," assented the other. "I perceive that you have communicated with Mr. Craig. How is he?" "Out of danger." "That is well. A fine and manly youth. I should have sorely regretted it if " Professor Gehren broke in upon him. "For the peril in which you have involved him, sir, you have to answer to me, his guardian." The foreigner raised a hand. "He was without family or ties.
So I've got to find out for myself. Here's the way I figure it out: The two men have been engaged in some out-of-door work that is extra hazardous. So much we know. Harvey Craig has, I'm afraid, succumbed to it. Otherwise he'd have sent some word to Professor Gehren. He may be dead or he may only be disabled by the dangerous character of the work, whatever it was.
"Were er his hands, also?" "His hands? Why should they?" "Of course, why, indeed? You noted them?" "I did not, sir." "Did he seem depressed or morose?" "I can not say that he did." "Professor Gehren, what, newspaper do you take?" The scholar stared. "The Citizen in the morning, The Register in the evening." "Are either of them delivered to your laboratory?" "Yes; the Register."
Hence it was with some discountenance that his clerk was obliged to apologize for his lateness, first, at 4 P. M. Of July 23, to a very dapper and spruce young gentleman in pale mauve spats, who wouldn't give his name; then at 4:05 P. m. of the same day to Professor Gehren, of the Metropolitan University; and finally at 4:30 P. m. to Mr. Robert Bertram.
They had returned from Baltimore and the society of the Man who spoke Latin a few days when Bertram, at the club, called up Average Jones' office. "I'm sending Professor Paul Gehren to you," was his message. "He'll call to-day or to-morrow."
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