We discovered Miss Haversham at last at Dr. Klemm’s sanitarium, up in the hills of Westchester County, a delightful place with a reputation for its rest cures. Dr. Klemm was an old friend of Kennedy’s, having had some connection with the medical school at the University.
She had gone up there rather suddenly, it seemed, to recuperate. At least that was what was given out, though there seemed to be much mystery about her, and she was taking no treatment as far as was known.
“Who is her physician?” asked Kennedy of Dr. Klemm as we sat in his luxurious office.
“A Dr. Maudsley of the city.”
Kennedy glanced quickly at me in time to check an exclamation.
“I wonder if I could see her?”
“Why, of course—if she is willing,” replied Dr. Klemm.
“I will have to have some excuse,” ruminated Kennedy. “Tell her I am a specialist in nervous troubles from the city, have been visiting one of the other patients, anything.”
Dr. Klemm pulled down a switch on a large oblong oak box on his desk, asked for Miss Haversham, and waited a moment.
“What is that?” I asked.