tolerated than welcome. Our excuse was that Kennedy had some more
questions which we wished to ask Miss Langdale.
While we waited for her we sat, not in the study, but in the parlor.
The folding-doors into the dining-room were closed, but across the hall
we could tell by the sound when Kato was in the kitchen and when he
crossed the hall.
Once I heard him in the dining-room. Before I knew it Kennedy had
hastily tiptoed across the hall and into the kitchen. He was gone only
a couple of minutes, but it was long enough to place in the food that
was being prepared, and in some unprepared, either the tablets he had
made or a powder he had derived from them crushed up. When he returned
I saw from his manner that the real purpose of the visit had been
accomplished, although when Miss Langdale appeared he went through the
form of questioning her, mostly on Mrs. Marbury's sickness and death.
He did not learn anything that appeared to be important, but at least
he covered up the reason for his visit. Outside the apartment, Kennedy
paused a moment. "There's nothing to do now but await developments," he
meditated. "Meanwhile, there is no use for us to double up our time
together. I have decided to watch Kato to-night. Suppose you shadow
Doctor Aitken. Perhaps we may get a line on something that way."
The plan seemed admirable to me. In fact, I had been longing for some
action of the sort all the afternoon, while Kennedy had been engaged in
the studies which he evidently deemed more important.
Accordingly, after dinner, we separated, Kennedy going back to the
Forum Apartments to wait until Kato left for the night, while I walked
farther up the Drive to the address given in the directory as that of
Doctor Aitken.
It happened to be the time when the doctor had his office hours for
patients, so that I was sure at least that he was at home when I took
my station just down the street, carefully scrutinizing every one who
entered and left his house.
Nothing happened, however, until the end of the hour during which he
received office calls. As I glanced down the street I was glad that I
had taken an inconspicuous post, for I could see Miss Langdale
approaching. She was not in her nurse's uniform, but seemed to be off
duty for an hour or two, and I must confess she was a striking figure,
even in that neighborhood which was noted for its pretty and daintily
gowned girls. Almost before I knew it she had entered the
English-basement entrance of Doctor Aitken's.
I thought rapidly. What could be the purpose of her visit? Above all,
how was I, on the outside, to find out? I walked down past the house.
But that did no good. In a quandary, I stopped. Hesitation would get me
nothing. Suddenly an idea flashed through my mind. I turned in and rang
the bell.
"It's past the doctor's office hours," informed a servant who opened
the door. "He sees no one after hours."
"But," I lied, "I have an appointment. Don't disturb him. I can wait."
The waiting-room was empty, I had seen, and I was determined to get in
at any cost. Reluctantly the servant admitted me.
For several moments I sat quietly alone, fearful that the doctor might
open the double doors of his office and discover me. But nothing
happened and I grew bolder. Carefully I tiptoed to the door. It was of
solid oak and practically impervious to sound. The doors fitted
closely, too. Still, by applying my ear, I could make out the sound of
voices on the other side. I strained my ears both to catch a word now
and then and to be sure that I might hear the approach of anybody
outside.
Was Aitken suspiciously interested in the pretty nurse--or was she
suspiciously interested in him?
Suddenly their voices became a trifle more distinct. "Then you think
Doctor Wardlaw has it, too?" I heard her ask. I did not catch the exact
reply, but it was in the affirmative.
They were approaching the door. In a moment it would be opened. I
waited to hear no more, but seized my hat and dashed for the entrance
from the street just in time to escape observation. Miss Langdale came
out shortly, the doctor accompanying her to the door, and I followed
her back to the Forum.
What I had heard only added to the puzzle. Why her anxiety to know
whether Wardlaw himself was affected? Why Aitken's solicitude in
asserting that he was? Were they working together, or were they really
opposed? Which might be using the other?
My queries still unanswered, I returned to Aitken's and waited about
some time, but nothing happened, and finally I went on to our own
apartment.
It was very late when Craig came in, but I was still awake and waiting
for him. Before I could ask him a question he was drawing from me what
I had observed, listening attentively. Evidently he considered it of
great importance, though no remark of his betrayed what interpretation
he put on the episode.
"Have you found anything?" I managed to ask, finally.
"Yes, indeed," he nodded, thoughtfully. "I shadowed Kato from the
Forum. It must have been before Miss Langdale came out that he left. He
lives down-town in a tenement-house. There's something queer about that
Jap."
"I think there is," I agreed. "I don't like his looks."
"But it wasn't he who interested me so much to-night," Craig went on,
ignoring my remark, "as a woman."
"A woman?" I queried, in surprise. "A Jap, too?"
"No, a white woman, rather good-looking, too, with dark hair and eyes.
She seemed to be waiting for him. Afterward I made inquiries. She has
been seen about there before."
"Who was she?" I asked, fancying perhaps Miss Langdale had made another
visit while she was out, although from the time it did not seem
possible.
"I followed her to her house. Her name is Hackstaff--"
"The first trained nurse!" I exclaimed.
"Miss Hackstaff is an enigma," confessed Kennedy. "At first I thought
that perhaps she might be one of those women whom the Oriental type
fascinated, that she and Kato might be plotting. Then I have considered
that perhaps her visits to Kato may be merely to get information--that
she may have an ax to grind. Both Kato and she will bear watching, and
I have made arrangements to have it done. I've called on that young
detective, Chase, whom I've often used for the routine work of
shadowing. There's nothing more that we can do now until to-morrow, so
we might as well turn in."
Early the next day Kennedy was again at work, both in his own
laboratory and in that of the Health Department, making further studies
of the food and the effect it had on the pigeons, as well as observing
what changes were produced by the white tablets he had extracted from
the yeast.
It was early in the forenoon when the buzzer on the laboratory door
sounded and I opened the door to admit Chase in a high state of
excitement.
"What has happened?" asked Craig, eagerly.
"Many things," reported the young detective, breathlessly. "To begin
with, I followed Miss Hackstaff from her apartment this morning. She
seemed to be worked up over something--perhaps had had a sleepless
night. As nearly as I could make out she was going about aimlessly.
Finally, however, I found that she was getting into the neighborhood of
Doctor Aitken and of the Forum. Well, when we got to the Forum she
stopped and waited in front of it--oh, I should say almost half an
hour. I couldn't make out what it was she wanted, but at last I found
out."
He paused a moment, then raced on, without urging. "Miss Langdale came
out--and you should have seen the Hackstaff woman go for her." He drew
in his breath sharply at the reminiscence. "I thought there was going
to be a murder done--on Riverside Drive. Miss Langdale screamed and ran
back into the apartment. There was a good deal of confusion. The
hall-boys came to the rescue. In the excitement, I managed to slip into
the elevator with her. No one seemed to think it strange then that an
outsider should be interested. I went up with her--saw Wardlaw, as she
poured out the story. He's a queer one. Is he RIGHT?"
"Why?" asked Craig, indulgently.
"He seems so nervous; things upset him so easily. Yet, after we had
taken care of Miss Langdale and matters had quieted down, I thought I
might get some idea of the cause of the fracas and asked him if he knew
of any reason. Why, he looked at me kind of blankly, and I swear he
acted as though he had almost forgotten it already. I tell you, he's
not RIGHT."
Remembering our own experience, I glanced significantly at Craig.
"Korsakoff's syndrome?" I queried, laconically. "Another example of a
mind confused even on recent events?"
Kennedy, however, was more interested in Chase. "What did Miss
Hackstaff do?" he asked.
"I don't know. I missed her. When I got out again she was gone."
"Pick her up again," directed Craig. "Perhaps you'll get her at her
place. And see, this time, if you can get what I asked you."
"I'll try," returned Chase, much pleased at the words of commendation
which Craig added as he left us again.
On what errand Chase had gone I could not guess, except that it had
something to do with this strange woman who had so unexpectedly entered
the case. Nor was Craig any more communicative. There were evidently
many problems which only events could clear up even in his mind. Though
he did not say anything, I knew that he was as impatient as I was, and
as Leslie, too, who called up once or twice to learn whether he had
discovered anything. There was nothing to do but wait.
It was early in the afternoon that the telephone rang and I answered
it. It was Chase calling Kennedy. I heard only half the conversation
and there was not much of that, but I knew that something was about to
happen. Craig hastily summoned a cab, then in rapid succession called
up Doctor Aitken and Leslie, for whom we stopped as our driver shot us
over to the Forum Apartments.
There was no ceremony or unnecessary explanation about our presence, as
Kennedy entered and directed Miss Langdale to bring her patients into
the little office-study of Doctor Wardlaw.
Miss Langdale obeyed reluctantly. When she returned I felt that it was
appreciable that a change had taken place. Mrs. Wardlaw, at least, was
improved. She was still ill, but she seemed to take a more lively
interest in what was going on about her. As for Doctor Wardlaw,
however, I could not see that there had been any improvement in him.
His nervousness had not abated. Kato, whom Kennedy summoned at the same
time, preserved his usual imperturbable exterior. Miss Langdale, in
spite of the incident of the morning, was quite as solicitous as ever
of her charges.
We had not long to wait for Doctor Aitken. He arrived, inquiring
anxiously what had happened, although Kennedy gave none of us any
satisfaction immediately as to the cause of his quick action. Aitken
fidgeted uneasily, glancing from Kennedy to Leslie, then to Miss
Langdale, and back to Kennedy, without reading any explanation in the
faces. I knew that Craig was secretly taking his time both for its
effect on those present and to give Chase a chance.
"Our poisons and our drugs," he began, leisurely, at length, "are in
many instances the close relatives of harmless compounds that represent
the intermediate steps in the daily process of metabolism. There is
much that I might say about protein poisons. However, that is not
exactly what I want to talk about--at least first."
He stopped to make sure that he had the attention of us all. As a
matter of fact, his manner was such that he attracted even the vagrant
interest of the Wardlaws.
"I do not know how much of his suspicions Commissioner Leslie has
communicated to you," he resumed, "but I believe that you have all
heard of the disease beriberi so common in the Far East and known to
the Japanese as kakke. It is a form of polyneuritis and, as you
doubtless know, is now known to be caused, at least in the Orient, by
the removal of the pericarp in the polishing of rice. Our milling of
flour is, in a minor degree, analogous. To be brief, the disease arises
from the lack in diet of certain substances or bodies which modern
scientists call vitamines. Small quantities of these vital principles
are absolutely essential to normal growth and health and even to life
itself. They are nitrogenous compounds and their absence gives rise to
a class of serious disorders in which the muscles surrender their store
of nitrogen first. The nerves seems to be the preferred creditors, so
to speak. They are affected only after the muscles begin to waste. It
is an abstruse subject and it is not necessary for me to go deeper into
it now."
I controlled my own interest in order to watch those about me. Kato,
for one, was listening attentively, I saw.
"In my studies of the diet of this household," continued Kennedy, "I
have found that substances have been used in preparing food which kill
vitamines. In short, the food has been denatured. Valuable elements,
necessary elements, have been taken away."
"I, sir, not always in kitchen, sir," interrupted Kato, still
deferential. "I not always know--"
With a peremptory wave of his hand Kennedy silenced the Jap.
"It has long been a question," he hurried on, "whether these vitamines
are tangible bodies or just special arrangements of molecules. Recently
government investigators have discovered that they are bodies that can
be isolated by a special process from the filtrate of brewer's yeast by
Lloyd's reagent. Five grams of this"--he held up some of the tablets he
had made--"for a sixty-kilogram person each day are sufficient. Unknown
to you, I have introduced some of this substance into the food already
deficient in vitamines. I fancy that even now I can detect a change,"
he nodded toward Mrs. Wardlaw.
There was a murmur of surprise in the room, but before Craig could
continue further the door opened and Mrs. Wardlaw uttered a nervous
exclamation. There stood Chase with a woman. I recognized her
immediately from Kennedy's description as Miss Hackstaff.
Chase walked deliberately over to Kennedy and handed him something,
while the nurse glanced calmly, almost with pity, at Mrs. Wardlaw,
ignoring Wardlaw, then fixing her gaze venomously on Miss Langdale.
Recalling the incident of the morning, I was ready to prevent, if
necessary, a repetition now. Neither moved. But it was a thrilling, if
silent, drama as the two women glared at each other.
Kennedy was hastily comparing the anonymous note he had received with
something Chase had brought.
"Some one," he shot out, suddenly, looking up and facing us, "has, as I
have intimated, been removing or destroying the vital principle in the
food--these vitamines. Clearly the purpose was to make this case look
like an epidemic of beriberi, polyneuritis. That part has been clear to
me for some time. It has been the source of this devilish plot which
has been obscure. Just a moment, Kato, I will do the talking. My
detective, Chase, has been doing some shadowing for me, as well as some
turning over of past history. He has found a woman, a nurse, more than
a nurse, a secret lover, cast off in favor of another. Miss
Hackstaff--you wrote that letter--it is your hand--for revenge--on Miss
Langdale and--"
"You shan't have him!" almost hissed Helen Hackstaff. "If I cannot--no
one shall!"
Natalie Langdale faced her, defiant. "You are a jealous, suspicious
person," she cried. "Doctor Aitken knows--"
"One moment," interrupted Craig. "Mrs. Marbury is gone. Mrs. Wardlaw is
weakened. Yet all who are affected with nerve troubles are not
necessarily suffering from polyneuritis. Some one here has been
dilettanting with death. It is of no use," he thundered, turning
suddenly on a cowering figure. "You stood to win most, with the money
and your unholy love. But Miss Hackstaff, cast off, has proved your
Nemesis. Your nervousness is the nervousness not of polyneuritis, but
of guilt, Doctor Wardlaw!"
IX
THE RUBBER DAGGER
"Hypnotism can't begin to accomplish what Karatoff claims. He's a fake,
Kennedy, a fake."
Professor Leslie Gaines of the Department of Experimental Psychology at
the university paced excitedly up and down Craig's laboratory.
"There have been complaints to the County Medical Society," he went on,
without stopping, "and they have taken the case up and arranged a
demonstration for this afternoon. I've been delegated to attend it and
report."
I fancied from his tone and manner that there was just a bit more than
professional excitement involved. We did not know Gaines intimately,
though of course Kennedy knew of him and he of Kennedy. Some years
before, I recollected, he had married Miss Edith Ashmore, whose family
was quite prominent socially, and the marriage had attracted a great
deal of attention at the time, for she had been a student in one of his
courses when he was only an assistant professor.
"Who is Karatoff, anyhow?" asked Kennedy. "What is known about him?"
"Dr. Galen Karatoff--a Russian, I believe," returned Gaines. "He claims
to be able to treat disease by hypnotism-suggestion, he calls it,
though it is really something more than that. As nearly as I can make
out it must almost amount to thought transference, telepathy, or some
such thing. Oh, he has a large following; in fact, some very well-known
people in the smart set are going to him. Why," he added, facing us,
"Edith--my wife--has become interested in his hypnotic clinics, as he
calls them. I tell her it is more than half sham, but she won't believe
it."
Gaines paused and it was evident that he hesitated over asking
something.
"When is the demonstration?" inquired Kennedy, with unconcealed
interest.
The professor looked at his watch. "I'm going over there now; in fact,
I'm just a bit late--only, I happened to think of you and it occurred
to me that perhaps if you could add something to my report it might
carry weight. Would you like to come with me? Really, I should think
that it might interest you."
So far Kennedy had said little besides asking a question or two. I knew
the symptoms. Gaines need not have hesitated or urged him. It was just
the thing that appealed to him.
"How did Mrs. Gaines become interested in the thing?" queried Craig, a
moment later, outside, as we climbed into the car with the professor.
"Through an acquaintance who introduced her to Karatoff and the rest.
Carita Belleville, the dancer, you know?"
Kennedy glanced at me and I nodded that I had heard of her. It was only
a few nights before that I had seen Carita at one of the midnight
revues, doing a dance which was described as the "hypnotic whirl," a
wild abandon of grace and motion. Carita Belleville had burst like a
meteor on the sky of the "Great White Way," blazing a gorgeous trail
among the fixed stars of that gay firmament. She had even been "taken
up" by society, or at least a certain coterie of it, had become much
sought after to do exhibition dancing at social affairs, and now was
well known in the amusement notes of the newspapers and at the
fashionable restaurants. She had hosts of admirers and I had no doubt
that Mrs. Gaines might well have fallen under the spell of her
popularity.
"What is Miss Belleville's interest in Karatoff?" pursued Craig, keenly.
Gaines shrugged his shoulders. "Notoriety, perhaps," he replied. "It is
a peculiar group that Karatoff has gathered about him, they tell me."
There was something unsatisfactory about the answer and I imagined that
Gaines meant purposely to leave it so as not to prejudice the case.
Somehow, I felt that there must be something risque in the doings of
Karatoff and his "patients." At any rate, it was only natural with
anything that Carita Belleville was likely to be concerned with.
There was little time for further questions, for our destination was
not far down the Drive from the university, and the car pulled up
before one of the new handsome and ornate "studio apartments" up-town.
We followed Gaines into the building, and the hall-boy directed us to a
suite on the first floor.
A moment later we were admitted by Karatoff himself to what had become
known as his "hypnotic clinic," really a most artistically furnished
studio.
Karatoff himself was a tall, dark-haired fellow, bearded, somewhat
sallow. Every feature of his remarkable face, however, was subordinate
to a pair of wonderful, deep-set, piercing eyes. Even as he spoke,
greeting Gaines on the rather ticklish mission he had come, and
accepting us with a quick glance and nod, we could see instantly that
he was, indeed, a fascinating fellow, every inch a mystic.
His clinic, or, as I have said, studio, carried out well the impression
of mysticism that one derived from the strange personality who presided
over it. There were only two or three rooms in the apartment, one being
the large room down the end of a very short hall to which he conducted
us. It was darkened, necessarily, since it was on the first floor of
the tall building, and the air seemed to be heavy with odors that
suggested the Orient. Altogether there was a cultivated dreaminess
about it that was no less exotic because studied. Doctor Karatoff
paused at the door to introduce us, and we could see that we were
undergoing a close scrutiny from the party who were assembled there.
On a quaint stand tea was brewing and the whole assemblage had an
atmosphere of bohemian camaraderie which, with the professions of
Karatoff, promised well that Kennedy was not wasting time.
I watched particularly the exchange of greetings between Professor
Gaines and Edith Gaines, who was already there. Neither of them seemed
to be perfectly at ease, though they betrayed as little as they could.
However, one could not help noticing that each was watching the other,
naturally.
Edith Gaines was a pretty little woman, petite, light of hair, dainty,
the very type of woman who craved for and thrived on attention. Here at
least there seemed to be no lack of it. There was only one other woman
in the room who attracted the men equally, Carita Belleville herself.
Carita was indeed a stunning woman, tall, slender, dark, with a
wonderful pair of magnetic eyes.
As I watched, I could see that both women were quite friendly with
Doctor Karatoff--perhaps even rivals for his attentions. I saw Gaines
watching Carita attentively, never in the mean time failing for long to
lose sight of Mrs. Gaines. Was he trying to estimate the relative
popularity of the two in this strange group? If so, I failed to see any
approval of either.
Introductions were now coming so fast that neither Kennedy nor I had
much opportunity except for the most cursory observation of the people.
Among the men, however, I noticed two especially who proved worth
observation. One was Armand Marchant, well known as a broker, not so
much for his professional doings as for his other activities. Though
successful, he was better known as one of those who desert Wall Street
promptly at the hour of closing, to be found late in the afternoon at
the tea dances up-town.
Another was Cyril Errol, a man of leisure, well known also in the club
world. He had inherited an estate, small, perhaps, but ample to allow
him to maintain appearances. Errol impressed you as being one to whom
the good things of the world appealed mightily, a hedonist, and,
withal, very much attracted to and by the ladies.
It was fortunate that the serving of tea enabled us to look about and
get our bearings. In spite of the suppressed excitement and obvious
restraint of the occasion, we were able to learn much over the tea-cups.