It was, according to her story, a ruse.  When she demanded recognition he replied that the marriage was invalid, that the minister had been unfrocked before the ceremony.  She was not in law his wife and had no claim, he asserted.  But he agreed to compromise, in spite of it all.  If she would go West and not return or intrude, he would make a cash settlement.  Disillusioned, she took the offer and went to California.  Somehow, he understood that she was dead.  Years later he married again.

Meanwhile she had invested her settlement, had prospered, had even married herself, thinking the first marriage void.  Then her second husband died and evil times came.  Blakeley was dead, but she came East.  Since then she had been fighting to establish the validity of the first marriage and hence her claim to dower rights.  It was a moving story.

As we finished reading, Kennedy gathered the papers together and took charge of them.  Taking Chapelle, who by this time was in a high state of excitement over both the death and the discovery, Kennedy hurried to the Blakeley mansion, stopping only long enough to telephone to Doctor Haynes and his son.

Evidently the news had spread.  Cynthia Blakeley met us in the hall, half frightened, yet much relieved.

“Oh, Professor Kennedy,” she cried, “I don’t know what it is, but mother seems so different.  What is it all about?”

As Kennedy said nothing, she turned to Chapelle, whom I was watching narrowly.  “What is it, Carl?” she whispered.

“I—­I can’t tell,” he whispered back, guardedly.  Then, with an anxious glance at the rest of us, “Is your sister any better?”

Cynthia’s face clouded.  Relieved though she was about her mother, there was still that horror for Virginia.

“Come,” I interrupted, not wishing to let Chapelle get out of my sight, yet wishing to follow Kennedy, who had dashed up-stairs.

I found Craig already at the bedside of Virginia.  He had broken one of the ampules and was injecting some of the extract in it into the sleeping girl’s arm.  Mrs. Blakeley bent over eagerly as he did so.  Even in her manner she was changed.  There was anxiety for Virginia yet, but one could feel that a great weight seemed to be lifted from her.

So engrossed was I in watching Kennedy that I did not hear Doctor Haynes and Hampton enter.  Chapelle heard, however, and turned.

For a moment he gazed at Hampton.  Then with a slight curl of the lip he said, in a low tone, “Is it strictly ethical to treat a patient for disease of the heart when she is suffering from anemia—­if you have an interest in the life and death of the patient?”

I watched Hampton’s face closely.  There was indignation in every line of it.  But before he could reply Doctor Haynes stepped forward.

“My son was right in the diagnosis,” he almost shouted, shaking a menacing finger at Chapelle.  “To come to the point, sir, explain that mark on Miss Virginia’s forehead!”