"I shall preserve absolute secrecy," promised Fellows.
"Good," said the doctor. "Tell what you know, Richards."
"It was on Monday night," said the man. "Mr. Cranston went upstairs to his room in the tower. He has a wireless set there, you know. It is a hobby with him. He was sending and receiving messages until about nine o'clock. Then he hurriedly left the house. He had ordered Stanley, the chauffeur, to be waiting with the car. I was at the door, and I heard him tell Stanley to lose no time getting in to New York."
"I have questioned Stanley," interposed Doctor Wells. "His story coincides with what Richards is telling you."
"Mr. Cranston told Stanley to come in town on Tuesday night and wait for him at the usual parking space on Forty-eighth Street," continued Richards. "Stanley did so; he waited until long after midnight, wondering why Mr. Cranston did not arrive. At two o'clock, a cab drove up. Mr. Cranston alighted and entered the limousine. Stanley was holding the door open; he says that Mr. Cranston stumbled as he entered the big car.
"Mr. Cranston told Stanley to hurry home, which he did. I was awake; the other servants had gone to bed. I heard the car coming up the drive and I opened the front door. I saw Stanley get out and open the door of the car. But Mr. Cranston did not appear. I walked down the front steps and joined Stanley.
"We both looked in the back of the car. For a moment, I thought that there was no one there. It was all dark, and no one moved. Then I turned on the light. Mr. Cranston was lying in a corner. His coat and vest were open; there was blood all over the side of his shirt.
"I thought for a minute that he was dead. He was limp when Stanley and I brought him in the house. I called for Doctor Wells, who came here immediately. Mr. Cranston seemed very badly hurt, sir."
"He had four knife wounds, and a bullet in his left side," announced the physician. "One cut, on his left shoulder, was a nasty one. The bullet caused a lot of trouble. The case was a bad one because he had evidently received the wounds several hours before I arrived. He had suffered greatly from loss of blood.
"When he regained consciousness, Cranston became delirious. He said nothing coherent. I was afraid that he would not survive, but his vitality is wonderful. His condition was critical Tuesday and Wednesday. It improved a bit Thursday, but it was not until this morning that he spoke so we could understand him. Then he mentioned your name twice."