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<h2 id="XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. “YOU’VE SAVED ME FROM MYSELF!”</h2> “You probably did not inject all of it,” Follansbee continued, as he withdrew the plunger of the syringe. He thrust the needle beneath the skin of his arm and pressed the plunger almost home; then, as he withdrew the syringe, a tiny drop of clear liquid appeared on the end of the needle, and a further compression of the plunger caused the globule to drop on his arm under the puncture. “There, that ought to convince any man, sane or insane,” the cool voice resumed. “Had this been a deadly culture, you will admit that I would hardly be so mad as to run even the slightest risk of being infected by it.” His manner and act carried conviction to the perturbed brain of James Stone. There was a chair close to the desk, and the tall figure collapsed into it. Stone stretched his arms out across the desk, dropped his head between them, and gave vent to a hoarse sob. “Thank Heaven! Oh, thank Heaven!” he said, in a choked voice. “I’ve been in torment these last few months, but it was all for the best. You’ve saved me from myself, doctor, and I don’t know how to thank you!” The hawklike face above him creased with satisfaction,[133] and the thin lips curled back from the sharp teeth. “I ask no thanks,” was the reply. “And allow me to remind you that I hold your check for a substantial sum. That is the best thanks to a man who needs all the money he can lay hands on in order to carry on costly experiments. I trust you will not regret having given it to me, although you did so under a misapprehension. You’ll remember, however, that I did not promise, at that time, to do away with Crawford. I merely promised that he would not trouble you after the twenty-seventh, and I have kept to the agreement. He will not trouble you, because all your differences will have vanished by that time—have vanished now, in fact. Later, of course, I felt compelled to fall in more nearly with your misguided desires, but that was nothing more than professional tact. If you had called yourself the King of Mexico, I would have humored you in that belief, and bowed down to you.” “I understand, of course—now,” Stone replied gravely. “As for your fee, it’s by no means too much for what you’ve done. Your skill has given me back my sanity and my old friend. Say nothing more about it.” Follansbee was not looking to drop the subject, however. “I won’t after this,” he said, “but that reminds me that the check is for a rather large amount, and it has occurred to me that your bank may make some difficulty about cashing it. I won’t present it before Monday, the twenty-seventh, of course, but if you[134] would write a note to the bank now, it might help matters.” Gratitude and relief made James Stone less cautious than he might otherwise have been. “Certainly,” he said, without hesitation. “I’ll be glad to do so.” “Thank you. I think I have some of your hotel stationery here in my pocket. Yes, here it is. I remember picking some up in the writing room the other day when I was waiting for you, and wished to make some notes.” He produced several sheets of paper engraved with the name of the Hotel Windermere, and, selecting one of them, spread it out on the desk before his visitor. His explanation of the possession of the paper was sufficiently plausible, and Stone was not in a critical mood. The result was that the miner scrawled a brief letter of introduction for Follansbee, accompanied with a request that the check be cashed without question. If he had only ventured to look up as he signed the note, he might have been warned that all was not well, but he did not think of doing so. Follansbee rose to his feet, and, taking the letter, slipped it into a plain envelope. Evidently he had not thought best to provide a hotel envelope in addition to the paper, for that thorough preparation might have seemed a little suspicious. “And now,” he said, “before you go, I’d like to offer you a little refreshment, if I may. I have some very good brandy, and a bit of it would tone you up.[135] You need it after all you’ve gone through to-night. After that you can go back to the hotel.” He did not know that Nick’s ruse in regard to the bell had spoiled Stone’s alibi. Had he been aware of the fact, it would have given him much food for thought, but it would not have affected his words to Stone, for they were spoken merely for effect. “And in the morning,” he added, “you will find Mr. Crawford as well as he ever was in his life.” “You are sure of that?” Stone asked eagerly. “The drug can’t possibly do him any permanent harm?” “On my professional honor, it cannot,” Follansbee assured him. “He won’t know anything about it when you see him again.” He had reached the sideboard now, and he picked up two glasses which stood beside the decanter containing the brandy. Stone was by his side as he poured the liquor, but the ex-miner did not see a suspicious move. Perhaps it was because he was not in a suspicious mood. At any rate, there can be no doubt that it was something more than brandy that he drank. Little more than five minutes later Doctor Follansbee accompanied Stone to the door, shook hands with him, and watched him depart. Stone had suggested the use of the doctor’s phone to call a taxi, but Follansbee had advised against it. “If you’re wise, you’ll walk; at least, a part of the way,” he had said. “You’ve been through a great deal to-night, and the exercise will be good for you. If you can get physically tired, so much the better.[136] You’ll be more apt to sleep when you reach your room.” Stone had taken the advice, and started off on foot. After lingering at the door for a few minutes, the specialist closed it and disappeared into the house. Very shortly the lights went out, and he reappeared on the steps. Seemingly, he, too, was going for a stroll, although it was nearly four o’clock in the morning by that time. Curiously enough, Follansbee headed in the same direction which Stone had taken, and, more curious still, a slouching figure emerged from an areaway, crossed the street, and flitted along behind the head physician of St. Swithin’s. The night had been full enough, but it looked as if other things were still to be crammed into it. <hr class="chap" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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