"Doctor Walker," I said, "I have come to you to ask some
questions. I hope you will answer them. As you know, my nephew
has not yet been found."
"So I understand," stiffly.
"I believe, if you would, you could help us, and that leads to
one of my questions. Will you tell me what was the nature of the
conversation you held with him the night he was attacked and
carried off?"
"Attacked! Carried off!" he said, with pretended surprise.
"Really, Miss Innes, don't you think you exaggerate? I
understand it is not the first time Mr. Innes has--disappeared."
"You are quibbling, doctor. This is a matter of life and death.
Will you answer my question?"
"Certainly. He said his nerves were bad, and I gave him a
prescription for them. I am violating professional ethics when I
tell you even as much as that."
I could not tell him he lied. I think I looked it. But I
hazarded a random shot.
"I thought perhaps," I said, watching him narrowly, "that it
might be about--Nina Carrington."
For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. He grew livid,
and a small crooked blood-vessel in his temple swelled and
throbbed curiously. Then he forced a short laugh.
"Who is Nina Carrington?" he asked.
"I am about to discover that," I replied, and he was quiet at
once. It was not difficult to divine that he feared Nina
Carrington a good deal more than he did the devil. Our leave-
taking was brief; in fact, we merely stared at each other over
the waiting-room table, with its litter of year-old
magazines.
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