"It is a simple test," explained Kennedy, indicating to Miss Langdale that he wished to repeat it on her patient.
Mrs. Wardlaw's knee showed no reflex! As he turned to us, we could see that Kennedy's face was lined deeply with thought, and he paced up and down the room once or twice, considering what he had observed.
I could see that even this simple interview had greatly fatigued Mrs. Wardlaw. Miss Langdale said nothing, but it was plainly evident that she objected strongly to the strain on her patient's strength.
"That will be sufficient," nodded Craig, noticing the nurse. "Thank you very much. I think you had better let Mrs. Wardlaw rest in her own room."
On the nurse's arm Mrs. Wardlaw withdrew and I looked inquiringly from Kennedy to Doctor Leslie. What was it that had made this beautiful woman such a wreck? It seemed almost as though the hand of fate had stretched out against one who had all to make her happy—wealth, youth, a beautiful home—for the sullen purpose of taking away what had been bestowed so bounteously.
"It is polyneuritis, all right, Leslie," Craig agreed, the moment we were alone.
"I think so," coincided Leslie, with a nod. "It's the CAUSE I can't get at. Is it polyneuritis of beriberi—or something else?" Kennedy did not reply immediately.
"Then there are other causes?" I inquired of Leslie.
"Alcohol," he returned, briefly. "I don't think that figures in this instance. At least I've seen no evidence."
"Perhaps some drug?" I hazarded at a venture.