“I don’t know that I am altogether at liberty to tell you that,” answered the young surgeon, slowly; “It’s a sort of police matter, you see. But if you’ll agree not to publish until the authorities release us, I’ll give it to you.”
“We’ll keep it to ourselves,” promised Kenyon.
“Very well then. But as I said before, I can only give you the outline of their statements, at that. Each of these three men is an absolute stranger to the others; yet each was summoned to New York upon the same errand, by the same man, and at the same time. Upon the night of November 12th each arrived in town, one from Butte, one from West Point, and the other from South Bend, Ind.; and each of them immediately made his way to the place of appointment—98 Selden’s Square. And as they arrived there, they were attacked murderously and left for dead. All this is strange; it only requires one more touch to complete the mystery. And we have that in the fact that the three men’s names are alike.”
“And what is the name?” asked Webster.
“Kenyon,” answered the young surgeon; “and a rather unusual one it is, don’t you think?”
VIII
THE NIGHT GROWS THICK WITH WONDER
Dom Migual: Hush! Walk softly. This night is filled with astonishments.
—From an Unacted Melodrama.
At the surgeon’s words Webster fairly gasped his astonishment. But Kenyon’s face was unreadable.
“A remarkable state of affairs, indeed,” said the young adventurer. “And without a doubt it has some equally surprising meaning if we could learn all the facts. But you said that you do not feel at liberty to tell us more, did you not?”