“It would be unprofessional to discuss it,” hastily parried Karatoff, “but, since Mr. Marchant is now dead, I think I may say that it was.  In fact, few persons, outside of those whom I have associated about me, realize to what a wonderful extent hypnotism may be carried in the treatment of disease.  Why, I have even had wonderful success with such disorders as diabetes mellitus.  We are only on the threshold of understanding what a wonderful thing is the human mind in its effect on the material body.”

“But another patient might have known what Marchant was being treated for?” interrupted Kennedy, ignoring the defense of Karatoff, which was proceeding along the stereotyped lines of such vagaries which seem never to be without followers.

Karatoff looked at him a moment in surprise.  Evidently he was doing some hasty mental calculation to determine what was Craig’s ulterior motive.  And, in spite of his almost uncanny claims and performances, I could see that he was able to read Kennedy’s mind no whit better than myself.

“I suppose so,” he admitted.  “No doctor was ever able to control his patients’ tongues.  Sometimes they boast of their diseases.”

“Especially if they are women?” hinted Kennedy, watching the effect of the remark keenly.  “I have just had the pleasure of a visit from Carita Belleville in my laboratory.”

“Indeed?” returned Karatoff, with difficulty restraining his curiosity.  “Miss Belleville has been very kind in introducing me to some of her friends and acquaintances, and I flatter myself that I have been able to do them much good.”

“Then she was not a patient?” pursued Kennedy, studiously avoiding enlightening Karatoff on the visit.

“Rather a friend,” he replied, quickly.  “It was she who introduced Mr. Errol.”

“They are quite intimate, I believe,” put in Kennedy at a chance.

“Really, I knew very little about it,” Karatoff avoided.

“Did she introduce Mr. Marchant?”

“She introduced Mrs. Gaines, who introduced Mr. Marchant,” the hypnotist replied, with apparent frankness.

“You were treating Mrs. Gaines?” asked Craig, again shifting the attack unexpectedly.

“Yes,” admitted Karatoff, stopping.

“I imagine her trouble was more mental than physical,” remarked Kennedy, in a casual tone, as though feeling his way.

Karatoff looked up keenly, but was unable to read Kennedy’s face.  “I think,” he said, slowly, “that one trouble was that Mrs. Gaines liked the social life better than the simple life.”

“Your clinic, Mr. Marchant, and the rest better than her husband and the social life at the university,” amplified Kennedy.  “I think you are right.  She had drifted away from her husband, and when a woman does that she has hosts of admirers—­of a certain sort.  I should say that Mr. Errol was the kind who would care more for the social life than the simple life, as you put it, too.”