“Linmarck.  It isn’t so hard to remember, is it?”

“No, but I forgot it.”

Immediately after reaching the office the next day, Henry sent for a reporter who had lived so long in Chicago that he was supposed thoroughly to know the city.

“Are you acquainted with Doctor Linmarck?” Henry asked when the reporter entered the room.

“Linmarck?  Let me see.  No, don’t think I am.”

“Did you ever hear of him?”

“What’s his particular line?”

“Paralysis, I think.”

“No, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Well, find out all you can about him and let me know as soon as possible.  And say,” he added as the reporter turned to go, “don’t say a word about it.”

“All right.”

Several hours later the reporter returned.  “Did you learn anything?” Henry asked.

“Yes, about all there is to learn, I suppose.  He has an office on Wabash Avenue, near Twelfth Street.  I called on him.”

“Does he look like a great specialist?”

“Well, his beard is hardly long enough for a great specialist.”

“But does he appear to be prosperous?”

“His location stands against that supposition.”

“But does he strike you as being an impostor?”

“Well, not exactly that; but I shouldn’t like to be paralyzed merely to give him a chance to try his hand on me.  I told him that I had considerable trouble with my left arm, and he asked if I had ever been afflicted with rheumatism, or if I had ever been stricken with typhoid fever, or—­I don’t remember how many diseases he tried on suspicion.  I told him that so far as I knew I had been in excellent health, and then he began to ask me about my parents.  I told him that they were dead and that I didn’t care to be treated for any disease that they might have had.  I asked him where he was from, and he said Philadelphia.  He hasn’t been here long, but is treating some very prominent people, he says.  There may be a reason why he should be employed, but I failed to find it.”

CHAPTER XXII.

TO GO ON A VISIT.

A month must have passed since Henry had sought to investigate the standing of Dr. Linmarck, when, one evening, Ellen astonished her father with the news that old Mrs. Colton was to be taken on a visit to her sister, who lived in New Jersey.  The sister had written an urgent letter to Mrs. Brooks, begging that the old lady might straightway be sent to her, and offering to relieve Mr. Brooks of all the trouble and responsibility that might be incurred by the journey.  She would send her son and her family physician.  Witherspoon grunted at so absurd a request and was surprised that Brooks should grant it.  The old woman might die on the train, and besides, what possible pleasure could she extract from such a visit?  It was nonsense.

“But suppose the poor old creature wants to go?” said Mrs. Witherspoon.