"What was it?" I asked eagerly.
"It was Elaine's footman, Michael," he replied thoughtfully. "As I suspected, he says that he is a confederate of the Clutching Hand and if we will protect him he will tell us the trouble with Elaine."
I considered a moment. "How's that?" I queried.
"Well," added Craig, "you see, Michael has become infuriated by the treatment he received from the Clutching Hand. I believe he cuffed him in the face yesterday. Anyway, he says he has determined to get even and betray him. So, after hearing how Elaine was, he slipped out of the servant's door and looking about carefully to see that he wasn't followed, he went straight to a drug store and called me up. He seemed extremely nervous and fearful."
I did not like the looks of the thing, and said so. "Craig," I objected vehemently, "don't go to meet him. It is a trap."
Kennedy had evidently considered my objection already.
"It may be a trap," he replied slowly, "but Elaine is dying and we've got to see this thing through."
As he spoke, he took an automatic from a drawer of a cabinet and thrust it into his pocket. Then he went to another drawer and took out several sections of thin tubing which seemed to be made to fasten together as a fishing pole is fastened, but were now separate, as if ready for travelling.
"Well—are you coming, Walter?" he asked finally—the only answer to my flood of caution.
Then he went out. I followed, still arguing.