Lieutenant Valcour smiled faintly. “He is under arrest now, Doctor. I should like to get a few things straightened out, though, before booking him on any definite charge. Would it hurt him very much to talk with me before he is taken to the hospital?”
“Not if it weren’t for too long.”
“Could you give him something to revive him—to brace him up?”
“Certainly.”
“Then I will have a man send for an ambulance, and I’ll just talk with Hollander until it gets here.”
“That will be all right.”
“And if you don’t mind, Doctor, I should like to be alone with him. Just he and I and—Endicott.”
Dr. Worth was already busied with restoratives. “Certainly,” he said. “Miss Murrow and I will be outside, if you want to call us.”
“Cassidy,” Lieutenant Valcour said, “wait outside in the hall, and you, Hansen, go downstairs and telephone for an ambulance. Let me know as soon as it gets here.”
And in a moment Lieutenant Valcour found himself alone in the room with Endicott, with Hollander, and with those curious mists that hinted at unnamed dreads.
The restoratives were effective, and Hollander opened his eyes upon a stranger who was sitting on a chair beside the mahogany chest. He wondered idly who the stranger was. The drug which Dr. Worth had given him made him feel rather alert and smart. Any sense of pain was completely deadened. His eyes travelled leisurely about the room and