some questions to ask him."

The former physician of Mr. Haswell lived not very far from the house
we had just left. He appeared a little surprised to see us so soon,
but very interested in what had taken place.

"Who is this Dr. Scott?" asked Craig when we were seated in the
comfortable leather chairs of the old-fashioned consulting-room.

"Really, I know no more about him than you do," replied Burnham. I
thought I detected a little of professional jealousy in his tone,
though he went on frankly enough, "I have made inquiries and I can
find out nothing except that he is supposed to be a graduate of some
Western medical school and came to this city only a short time ago. He
has hired a small office in a new building devoted entirely to doctors
and they tell me that he is an eye and ear specialist, though I cannot
see that he has any practice. Beyond that I know nothing about him."

"Your friend Prescott interests me, too," remarked Kennedy, changing
the subject quickly.

"Oh, he is no friend of mine," returned the doctor, fumbling in a
drawer of his desk. "But I think I have one of his cards here which
he gave me when we were introduced some time ago at Mr. Haswell's. I
should think it would be worth while to see him. Although he has no
use for me because I have neither money nor influence, still you might
take this card. Tell him you are from the university, that I have
interested you in him, that you know a trustee with money to
invest--anything you like that is plausible. When are you going to see
him?"

"The first thing in the morning," replied Kennedy. "After I have seen
him I shall drop in for another chat with you. Will you be here?"

The doctor promised, and we took our departure.

Prescott's laboratory, which we found the next day from the address
on the card, proved to be situated in one of the streets near the
waterfront under the bridge approach, where the factories and
warehouses clustered thickly. It was with a great deal of anticipation
of seeing something happen that we threaded our way through the maze
of streets with the cobweb structure of the bridge, carrying its
endless succession of cars arching high over our heads. We had nearly
reached the place when Kennedy paused and pulled out two pairs of
glasses, those huge round tortoiseshell affairs.

"You needn't mind these, Walter," he explained. "They are only plain
glass, that is, not ground. You can see through them as well as
through air.