land only recently made receptive to the civilization of the West.  When he and Kennedy chatted together in low tones for a few moments it was hard for me to grasp that each belonged to a basic race strain fundamentally different from the other.  East and West had met, upon the plane of modern science.  The two were simply men of specialized knowledge, the Japanese pre-eminent in one field, Kennedy in another.

Carefully and thoroughly Kennedy and Nagoya went over the results which Kennedy had already obtained.  After a moment Doctor Nagoya conducted us to his research room.

“Now let me show you,” said the Oriental.

In a moment they were deep in the mysteries of an even more minute analysis than Kennedy had made before.  I took a turn about the room, finding nothing more understandable than the study holding Kennedy’s interest.  Though I could not grasp it, curiosity kept me hovering close.

“You see”—­Nagoya spoke as he finished the test he was making at the moment—­“without a doubt it is crotalin, the venom of the rattlesnake, Crotalus horridus.”

“There was no snake actually present,” I hastened to explain, breaking in.  Then at a glance from Kennedy I stopped, abashed, for all this had been made clear to the scientist.

“It is not necessary,” Nagoya replied, turning to me with the politeness characteristic of the East.  “Crotalin can be obtained now with fair ease.  It is a drug used in a new treatment of epilepsy which is being tried out at many hospitals.”

I nodded my thanks, not wanting to interrupt again.

Kennedy pressed on to the next point he wished established.  “That was the spot on the portieres.  Now the ampulla.”

“Also crotalin.”  Doctor Nagoya spoke positively.

“How about this solution?” Kennedy took from my package the tube with the liquid made from the faint spots on the towel which I had found and which had been our first clue.  “It is not crotalin.”

The Japanese turned to his laboratory table.

Kennedy muttered some vague suggestions which were too technical for me but which seemed to enable Nagoya to eliminate a great deal of work.  The test progressed rapidly.  Finally the savant stepped back, regarding the solution with a very satisfied smile.

“It is,” he explained, carefully, “some of the very anticrotalus venin which we have perfected right here in the institute.”

Kennedy nodded.  “I suspected as much.”  There was great elation in his manner.  “You see, I had heard all about your wonderful work.”

“Yes!” Nagoya waved his hand around at the wonderfully equipped room, only one detail in the many arrangements for medical research made possible by the generosity of Castleton.  “Yes,” he repeated, proud of his laboratory, as he well might be, “we have made a great deal of progress in the development of protective sera—­antivenins, we call them.”

“Are they distributed widely?” Kennedy asked, thoughtfully.