Again that look of haunted pursuit. He glanced about the room. Whatever had been his experience, it was plain that he had not given up. He held something and he held it still. What was it?
“You say you didn't find the Blind Spot?”
“No, I did not find it.”
“Have you any idea?”
“My dear Harry,” he answered, “I am full of ideas. That's the trouble. I am near it. It's the cause of my present condition. I don't know just what it is nor where. A condition, or a combination of phenomena. You remember the lecture that was never delivered? Had the doctor spoken that morning the world would have had a great fact. He had made a great discovery. It is a terrible thing.” He turned the ring so we could all see it—beyond all doubt it was the doctor. “There he is—the professor. If he could only speak. The secret of the ages. Just think what it means. Where is he? I have taken that jewel to the greatest lapidaries and they have one and all been startled. Then they all come to the same conclusion—trickery—Chinese or Hindu work, they say; most of them want to cut.”
“Have you taken it to the police?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I would simply be laughed at.”
“Have you ever reported this Rhamda?”