It was the middle of the afternoon when we reached the laboratory.  Kennedy at once set to work studying the drops of tonic which had been absorbed in the handkerchief.  As Kennedy worked, I began thinking over again of what we had seen at the Belleclaire Sanatorium.  Somehow or other, I could not get out of my mind the recollection of the man rolled in the blanket and trussed up as helpless as a mummy.  I wondered whether that alone was sufficient to account for the quickness with which he had been pacified.  Then I recalled Mrs. Cranston’s remark about her mental alertness and physical weakness.  Had it anything to do with the “tonic”?

“Suppose, while I am waiting,” I finally suggested to Craig, “I try to find out what Cranston does with his time since his wife has been shut off from the world.”

“That’s a very good idea,” acquiesced Kennedy.  “Don’t take too long, however, for I may strike something important here any minute.”

After several inquiries over the telephone, I found that since his wife had been in Montrose Cranston had closed his apartment and was living at one of his clubs.  Having two or three friends who were members, I did not hesitate to drop around.

Unfortunately, none of my friends happened to be there, and I was forced, finally, to ask for Cranston himself, although all that I really wanted to know was whether he was there or not.  One of the clerks told me that he had been in, but had left in a taxicab only a short time before.

As there was a cab-stand outside the club, I determined to make an inquiry and perhaps discover the driver who had had him.  The starter knew him, and when I said that it was very important business on which I wanted to see him he motioned to a driver who had just pulled up.

A chance for another fare and a generous tip were all that was necessary to induce him to drive me to the Trocadero, a fashionable restaurant and cabaret, where he had taken Cranston a short time before.  It was crowded when I entered, and, avoiding the headwaiter, I stood by the door a few minutes and looked over the brilliant and gay throng.  Finally, I managed to catch a glimpse of Cranston’s head at a table in a far corner.  As I made my way down the line of tables, I was genuinely amazed to see that he was with a woman.  It was Julia Giles!

She must have come down on the next train after we did, but, at any rate, it looked as though she had lost no time in seeking out Cranston after our visit.  I took a seat at a table next them.

They were talking about Kennedy, and, during a lull in the music, I overheard him asking her just what Craig had done.

“It was certainly very clever in him to play both you and Doctor Burr the way he did.  He told Doctor Burr that you had sent him, and told you that Doctor Burr had sent him.  By whom do you suppose he really was sent?”

“Could it have been my wife?”

“It must have been, but how she did it is more than I can imagine.”