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Updated: May 19, 2025
"Did I understand you to imply that I am at liberty to accompany you?" inquired Professor Gehren. "If you care to take the risk." "Think there'll be excitement?" asked Bertram languidly. "I'd like to go along." Average Jones nodded. "One or a dozen; I fancy it will be all the same to Smith." "You think we'll find him dead." Young Mr. McIntyre leaped to this conclusion. "Count me in on it."
Babs was in so hysterical a condition when she returned from the police court that she gave a very incoherent account of the whole affair, and she has kept her room ever since luncheon," explained Mrs. Brewster. Stone looked puzzled. "I understood that Jimmie was attentive to Helen McIntyre and not to Barbara," he said.
He added to it by dark hints of the plots he and the watchman were hatching; the breaking of the dam and the burning of the mill being among the smallest. Then there was that wonderful engine he was free to examine. And last of all, Tim noticed a strange and delightful circumstance that often attended his visits to McIntyre.
They were identically attired and when Coroner Penfield looked again at the witness chair, he stared in surprise at its occupant. "I beg pardon, Miss McIntyre, I desire your sister to testify," he remarked. "I am Barbara McIntyre."
There could be no doubt of it. Old McIntyre was sitting up now, and burst suddenly into a hoarse peal of laughter, rocking himself backwards and forwards, and looking up at them with little twinkling, cunning eyes. It was clear to both of them that his mind, weakened by long brooding over the one idea, had now at last become that of a monomaniac.
Atlee submits quite a remarkable case of congenital ventral gestation, the subject being a girl of six, who recovered after the discharge of the fetal mass from the abdomen. McIntyre speaks of a child of eleven, playing about and feeling well, but whose abdomen progressively increased in size 1 1/2 inches each day.
A gray-haired patrolman, cap in hand, was in the lead of the small procession which filed up the aisle, and Clymer gazed in astonishment at Helen McIntyre and her twin sister, Barbara. What had brought them at that hour to the police court? The court room was filled with men, both white and black, while a dozen or more slatternly negro women were seated here and there.
There was something so strange in the quick, indifferent manner of the people who jostled one another on the crowded platform, in the cries of the cabmen and porters, and in the general hurrying to and fro, that even Annie was in some danger of losing her presence of mind; and it was with something like a feeling of danger escaped that they found themselves, at last, safe on their way to the house of Mrs McIntyre, a connection of some friends of that name at home.
"Miss McIntyre here?" Clymer stared in amazement at his questioner. "No, certainly not." "Don't be so positive," retorted the lawyer heatedly, his color rising at the other's incredulous tone. "Helen McIntyre telephoned me to meet her, and by Jove, here she comes," as a slight stir at the back of the court room caused him to glance in that direction.
"Nothing," Barbara's eyes opened innocently. "I only recalled the fact of his relationship as you enumerated his virtues." Colonel McIntyre transferred his regard from her to the butler. "You need not wait, Grimes." He remained silent until the servant was safely in the pantry, and then addressed his daughter. "None of your tricks, Barbara," he cautioned.
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