Whatever the case, Kennedy had accomplished his purpose.  He had seen Chapelle.  If he were really guilty of anything the chances were all in favor of his betraying it by trying to cover it up.  Deftly suppressing Hampton, we managed to beat a retreat without showing our hands any further.

“Humph!” snorted Hampton, as we rode down in the elevator and hopped on a ’bus to go up-town.  “Gave up legitimate medicine and took up this beauty doctoring—­it’s unprofessional, I tell you.  Why, he even advertises!”

We left Hampton and returned to the laboratory, though Craig had no present intention of staying there.  His visit was merely for the purpose of gathering some apparatus, which included a Crookes tube, carefully packed, a rheostat, and some other paraphernalia which we divided.  A few moments later we were on our way again to the Blakeley mansion.

No change had taken place in the condition of the patient, and Mrs. Blakeley met us anxiously.  Nor was the anxiety wholly over her daughter’s condition, for there seemed to be an air of relief when Kennedy told her that we had little to report.

Up-stairs in the sick-room, Craig set silently to work, attaching his apparatus to an electric-light socket from which he had unscrewed the bulb.  As he proceeded I saw that it was, as I had surmised, his new X-ray photographing machine which he had brought.  Carefully, from several angles, he took photographs of Virginia’s head, then, without saying a word, packed up his kit and started away.

We were passing down the hall, after leaving Mrs. Blakeley, when a figure stepped out from behind a portiere.  It was Cynthia, who had been waiting to see us alone.

“You—­don’t think Doctor Chapelle had anything to do with it?” she asked, in a hoarse whisper.

“Then Hampton Haynes has been here?” avoided Kennedy.

“Yes,” she admitted, as though the question had been quite logical.  “He told me of your visit to Carl.”

There was no concealment, now, of her anxiety.  Indeed, I saw no reason why there should be.  It was quite natural that the girl should worry over her lover, if she thought there was even a haze of suspicion in Kennedy’s mind.

“Really I have found out nothing yet,” was the only answer Craig gave, from which I readily deduced that he was well satisfied to play the game by pitting each against all, in the hope of gathering here and there a bit of the truth.  “As soon as I find out anything I shall let you and your mother know.  And you must tell me everything, too.”

He paused to emphasize the last words, then slowly turned again toward the door.  From the corner of my eye I saw Cynthia take a step after him, pause, then take another.

“Oh, Professor Kennedy,” she called.

Craig turned.

“There’s something I forgot,” she continued.  “There’s something wrong with mother!” She paused, then resumed:  “Even before Virginia was taken down with this—­illness I saw a change.  She is worried.  Oh, Professor Kennedy, what is it?  We have all been so happy.  And now—­Virgie, mother—­all I have in the world.  What shall I do?”