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Updated: May 15, 2025
"No, I did not see a New York paper from the time I started until I returned. I could not get one, even if I had not had too many cares and been too much absorbed in my wife's critical condition to think of or read news of any kind," Doctor Wesselhoff replied. Then, with a sudden thought, as he turned again to Ray: "Young man, is not your name Walton?"
"If Amos Palmer is your father, you will surely find him by your bedside after you have had your nap," Doctor Wesselhoff responded, and with another hand-clasp he withdrew from the room. In less than five minutes Ray was sleeping quietly and restfully. Half an hour later the great brain specialist rang the bell of Amos Palmer's handsome residence.
Doctor Wesselhoff looked very much disturbed, for the more he talked with Ray, the more fully convinced he was that he had been unconsciously lending his aid to further an atrocious crime. But as he saw how pale and weary his patient was, he was recalled to a sense of his duty as a physician. He arose and kindly took the young man's hand.
My home is No. 119 street; but, Doctor Wesselhoff, if you still doubt my statements, and imagine that I am laboring under a peculiar mania, you can easily ascertain the truth by bringing my father here to prove my assertions. I beg that you will do so without delay, for he must be suffering the most harrowing suspense on my account."
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