got the drop on you. In my coat pocket is a cocked revolver with my
forefinger on the trigger. If you make a hostile move I can let daylight
through you so quickly that you won't know what has struck you."

"Electric light, I think you mean," answered the doctor, quietly. "Even
a Chicago man might find it difficult to let daylight through a person
at this time in the evening. Now, this sort of thing may be Chicago
manners, but I assure you it will not go down here in Cincinnati. You
have rendered yourself liable to the law if I cared to make a point of
it, but I do not. Come back with me to my study. I would like to talk
with you."

Stratton began to feel vaguely that he had made a fool of himself. His
scheme had utterly failed. The doctor was a great deal cooler and more
collected than he was. Nevertheless, he had a deep distrust of the
gentleman, and he kept his revolver handy for fear the other would make
a dash to escape him. They walked back without saying a word to each
other until they came to the doctor's office. Into the house they
entered, and the doctor bolted the door behind them. Stratton suspected
that very likely he was walking into a trap, but he thought he would
be equal to any emergency that might arise. The doctor walked into the
study, and again locked the door of that. Pulling down the blinds, he
turned up the gas to its full force and sat down by a table, motioning
the newspaper man to a seat on the other side.

"Now," he said calmly to Stratton, "the reason I did not resent your
unwarrantable insult is this: You are conscientiously trying to get at
the root of this mystery. So am I. Your reason is that you wish to score
a victory for your paper. My motive is entirely different, but our
object is exactly the same. Now, by some strange combination of