Cynthia moved over and drew her arms about the convulsed figure of her mother.

“Some one else knew of this old marriage of Stuart Blakeley,” proceeded Kennedy, “knew of Reba Rinehart, knew that she might die at any moment.  But until she died none of the Blakeleys could be entirely sure of their fortune.”

It flashed over me that Chapelle might have conceived the whole scheme, seeking to gain the entire fortune for Cynthia.

“Who was interested enough to plot this postponement of the wedding until the danger to the fortune was finally removed?” I caught sight of Hampton Haynes, his eyes riveted on the face on the bed before us.

Virginia stirred again.  This time her eyes opened wider.  As if in a dream she caught sight of the face of her lover and smiled wanly.

Could it have been Hampton?  It seemed incredible.

“The old lady is dead,” pursued Kennedy, tensely.  “Her dower right died with her.  Nothing can be gained by bringing her case back again—­except to trouble the Blakeleys in what is rightfully theirs.”

Gathering up the beauty mask, the X-ray photographs, and the papers of Mrs. Rinehart, Kennedy emphasized with them the words as he whipped them out suddenly.

“Postponing the marriage, at the possible expense of Chapelle, until Reba Rinehart was dead, and trusting to a wrong diagnosis and Hampton’s inexperience as the surest way of bringing that result about quickly, it was your inordinate ambition for your son, Doctor Haynes, that led you on.  I shall hold these proofs until Virginia Blakeley is restored completely to health and beauty.”

VII

THE LOVE METER

“Since we brought him home, my brother just tosses and gasps for air.  Oh, I think Eulalie and I shall both go mad!”

The soft, pleading voice of Anitra Barrios and her big, appealing brown eyes filled with tears were doubly affecting as, in spite of her own feelings, she placed her hand on that of a somewhat younger girl who had accompanied her to the laboratory.

“We were to have been married next month,” sobbed Eulalie Sandoval.  “Can’t you come and see Jose, Professor Kennedy?  There must be something you can do.  We fear he is dying—­yes, dying.”

“Poor little girl!” murmured Anitra, still patting her hand affectionately, then to us, “You know, Eulalie is the sister of Manuel Sandoval, who manages the New York business of my brother.”  She paused.  “Oh, I can’t believe it, myself.  It’s all so strange, so sudden.”

For the moment her own grief overwhelmed Anitra, and both sister and sweetheart of Jose Barrios clung to each other.

“What is the trouble?” soothed Craig.  “What has happened?  How can I help you?”

“Everything was so happy with us,” cried Anitra, “until Jose and I came to New York—­and—­now—­” She broke down again.

“Please be calm,” encouraged Kennedy.  “Tell me everything—­ anything.”