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Updated: June 22, 2025


In fact, I was in no condition for the performance of any operation. I committed a great indiscretion in going to Mr. Birtwell's last night. Late suppers and wine do not leave one's nerves in the best condition, as you and I know very well, doctor; and as a preparation for work such as we have had on hand to-day nothing could be worse."

More than twenty of our friends, in concert with the police, are at work in all conceivable ways to get trace of him, but from the moment he left Mr. Birtwell's he dropped out of sight as completely as if the sea had gone over him. Up to this time not the smallest clue to this dreadful mystery has been found. But come, doctor. Every moment is precious." Doctor Hillhouse drew out his watch.

"Didn't I hear something about the disappearance of a young man who left Mr. Birtwell's at a late hour?" asked Doctor Kline. "Nothing has been heard of the son of Wilmer Voss since he went away from Mr. Birtwell's about one o'clock," replied Doctor Hillhouse, "and his family are in great distress about him. Mrs.

WE have seen how it was with Doctor Hillhouse on the morning of the day fixed for the operation. The very danger that Mr. Carlton sought to avert in his rejection of Doctor Kline was at his door. Not having attended the party at Mr. and Mrs. Birtwell's, he did not know that Doctor Hillhouse had, with most of the company, indulged freely in wine.

The guard was off the moment a single glass of liquor passed his lips, and, he came under the influence of an aroused appetite against which resolution set itself feebly and in vain. Up to the evening of this party at Mr. Birtwell's General Abercrombie had kept himself free from wine, and people who knew nothing of his history wondered at his abstemiousness.

Abercrombie had not been out of her room all the morning, but she did not feel inclined to take part in the conversation, and so said nothing. "I saw the general going into the Clarendon about two o'clock," said a gentleman. "He's dining with some friend, most probably." "I hear," remarked another, "that he acted rather strangely at Mr. Birtwell's last night." Every ear pricked up at this. "How?"

Birtwell as he came back. "One might infer that he thought us to blame for his son's absence." "I can't bear this suspense. I must see Frances." It was an hour after Mr. Voss had been there. Mrs. Birtwell rang a bell, and ordering the carriage, made herself ready to go out. "Mrs. Voss says you must excuse her," said the servant who had taken up Mrs. Birtwell's card.

Birtwell's was an officer holding a high rank in the army, named Abercrombie. He had married, many years before, a lady of fine accomplishments and rare culture who was connected with one of the oldest families in New York.

Ridley stood dumb in presence of the officer, who was touched by the helpless misery of his face. "You were at Mr. Birtwell's?" Ridley answered by a silent inclination of his head. "I do not wonder," said the magistrate, his voice softening, "that, you lost your way in the storm last night. You are not the only one who found himself astray and at fault.

Birtwell's last night, and his poor mother is lying insensible, broken down by her fears." "Oh, what of her? I was called for in the night, and you went in my place." "I found Mrs. Voss in a state of coma, from which she had only partially recovered when I left at daylight. Mr.

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