I did not gather in what direction Kennedy was tending, but it was evident that Karatoff felt more at ease.  Was it because the quest seemed to be leading away from himself?

“I had noticed something of the sort,” he ventured.  “I saw that they were alike in that respect, but, of course, Mr. Marchant was her friend.”

Suddenly the implication flashed over me, but before I could say anything Kennedy cut in, “Then Mr. Errol might have been enacting under hypnotism what were really his own feelings and desires?”

“I cannot say that,” replied Karatoff, seeking to dodge the issue.  “But under the influence of suggestion I suppose it is true that an evil-minded person might suggest to another the commission of a crime, and the other, deprived of free will, might do it.  The rubber dagger has often been used for sham murders.  The possibility of actual murder cannot be denied.  In this case, however, there can be no question that it was an unfortunate accident.”

“No question?” demanded Kennedy, directly.

If Karatoff was concealing anything, he made good concealment.  Either to protect himself or another he showed no evidence of weakening his first theory of the case.

“No question as far as I know,” he reiterated.

I wondered whether Kennedy planned to enlighten him on the results of his laboratory tests, but was afraid to look at either for fear of betraying some hint.  I was glad I did not.  Kennedy’s next question carried him far afield from the subject.

“Did you know that the Medical Society were interested in you and your clinic before the demonstration before Professor Gaines was arranged?”

“I suspected some one was interested,” answered Karatoff, quickly, “But I had no idea who it might be.  As I think it over now, perhaps it was Professor Gaines who instigated the whole inquiry.  He would most likely be interested.  My work is so far in advance of any that the conservative psychologists do that he would naturally feel hostile, would he not?”

“Especially with the added personal motive of knowing that his wife was one of your patients, along with Carita Belleville, Marchant, Errol, and the rest,” added Kennedy.

Karatoff smiled.  “I would not have said that myself.  But since you have said it, I cannot help admitting its truth.  Don’t you suppose I could predict the nature of any report he would make?”

Karatoff faced Kennedy squarely.  There was an air almost of triumph in his eyes.  “I think I had better say no more, except under the advice of my lawyer,” he remarked, finally.  “When the police want me, they can find me here.”

Quite evident to me now, as we went out of the studio, was the fact that Karatoff considered himself a martyr, that he was not only the victim of an accident, but of persecution as well.

“The fishing was good,” remarked Kennedy, tersely, as we reached the street.  “Now before I see Errol I should like to see Gaines again.”