"And—am I in his house?" the young man demanded, his amazement in nowise abated.
"Yes, this is Doctor Wesselhoff's residence."
"That is very strange! I cannot understand!" Ray remarked, deeply perplexed. "Why am I here?"
"You—have not been quite well of late, and you are here for treatment."
"For treatment? Do you mean that I am here as a patient of Doctor
Wesselhoff?" cried Ray, aghast.
"Yes, sir, for a little while, until you are better."
"Who brought me here? Who made arrangements for my coming here?"
"Your own friends; and really, sir, it would be better if you would accept the situation quietly," said the man, in a conciliatory tone.
Ray began to get excited again at this information, and the more so, that he did not believe it, while the mystery of his situation seemed to deepen.
He had heard of Doctor Wesselhoff, as he had said; he knew that he was regarded as one of the finest brain specialists in the metropolis, if not in the country, and that, as a man, he stood high in the estimation of the public.