The Exploits of Elaine | Page 9

bottle of scopolamine.
"Miss Sears," he asked rather testily, "what have you done with the
hypodermic and the scopolamine?"
"Nothing," she protested.
"You must have done something."
She repeated that she had not.
"Well, it is very strange then," he said, "I am positive I laid the syringe
and the bottle right here on this tray on the table."
Holmes, Miss Sears and Miss Stern all hunted, but it could not be
found. Others had to be procured.
I thought little of it at the time, but since then it has occurred to me that
it might interest you, Professor Kennedy, and I give it to you for what it
may be worth.

It was early the next morning that I awoke to find Kennedy already up
and gone from our apartment. I knew he must be at the laboratory, and,
gathering the mail, which the postman had just slipped through the
letter slot, I went over to the University to see him. As I looked over
the letters to cull out my own, one in a woman's handwriting on
attractive notepaper addressed to him caught my eye.
As I came up the path to the Chemistry Building I saw through the
window that, in spite of his getting there early, he was finding it
difficult to keep his mind on his work. It was the first time I had ever
known anything to interfere with science in his life.
I thought of the letter again.
Craig had lighted a Bunsen burner under a large glass retort. But he had
no sooner done so than he sat down on a chair and, picking up a book
which I surmised might be some work on toxicology, started to read.
He seemed not to be able, for the moment, to concentrate his mind and
after a little while closed the book and gazed straight ahead of him.
Again I thought of the letter, and the vision that, no doubt, he saw of
Elaine making her pathetic appeal for his help.
As he heard my footstep in the hall, it must have recalled him for he
snapped the book shut and moved over quickly to the retort.
"Well," I exclaimed as I entered, "you are the early bird. Did you have
any breakfast?"
I tossed down the letters. He did not reply. So I became absorbed in the
morning paper. Still, I did not neglect to watch him covertly out of the
corner of my eye. Quickly he ran over the letters, instead of taking
them, one by one, in his usual methodical way. I quite complimented
my own superior acumen. He selected the dainty note.
A moment Craig looked at it in anticipation, then tore it open eagerly. I
was still watching his face over the top of the paper and was surprised
to see that it showed, first, amazement, then pain, as though something

had hurt him.
He read it again--then looked straight ahead, as if in a daze.
"Strange, how much crime there is now," I commented, looking up
from the paper I had pretended reading.
No answer.
"One would think that one master criminal was enough," I went on.
Still no answer.
He continued to gaze straight ahead at blankness.
"By George," I exclaimed finally, banging my fist on the table and
raising my voice to catch his attention, "you would think we had
nothing but criminals nowadays."
My voice must have startled him. The usually imperturbable old fellow
actually jumped. Then, as my question did not evidently accord with
what was in his mind, he answered at random, "Perhaps- -I wonder if--"
and then he stopped, noncommittally.
Suddenly he jumped up, bringing his tightly clenched fist down with a
loud clap into the palm of his hand.
"By heaven!" he exclaimed, "I--I will!"
Startled at his incomprehensible and unusual conduct I did not attempt
to pursue the conversation but let him alone as he strode hastily to the
telephone. Almost angrily he seized the receiver and asked for a
number. It was not like Craig and I could not conceal my concern.
"Wh-what's the matter, Craig?" I blurted out eagerly.
As he waited for the number, he threw the letter over to me. I took it
and read:

"Professor Craig Kennedy, "The University, The Heights, City.
"Dear Sir,--
"I have come to the conclusion that your work is a hindrance rather
than an assistance in clearing up my father's death and I hereby beg to
state that your services are no longer required. This is a final decision
and I beg that you will not try to see me again regarding the matter.
"Very truly yours, ELAINE DODGE."
If it had been a bomb I could not have been more surprised. A moment
before I think I had just a sneaking