Dr. Bolton Burr, who was at the head of the institution, met us in the plainly furnished reception-room which also served as his office. Through a window we could see some of the patients walking or sitting about on a small stretch of scraggly grass between the house and the wall.
Doctor Burr was a tall and commanding-looking man with a Vandyke beard, and one would instinctively have picked him out anywhere as a physician.
"I believe you have a patient here—Mrs. Roger Cranston," began
Kennedy, after the usual formalities. Doctor Burr eyed us askance.
"I've been asked by Mr. Cranston to make an examination of his wife,"
pursued Craig, presenting the card which he had obtained from Roger
Cranston.
"H'm!" mused Doctor Burr, looking quickly from the card to Kennedy with a searching glance.
"I wish you would tell me something of the case before I see her," went on Kennedy, with absolute assurance.
"Well," temporized Doctor Burr, twirling the card, "Mrs. Cranston came to me after the death of her child. She was in a terrible state. But we are slowly building up her shattered nerves by plain, simple living and a tonic."
"Was she committed by her husband?" queried Kennedy, unexpectedly.
Whether or not Doctor Burr felt suspicious of us I could not tell. But he seemed eager to justify himself.
"I have the papers committing her to my care," he said, rising and opening a safe in the corner.
He laid before us a document in which appeared the names of Roger
Cranston and Julia Giles.