Ray's weak fingers closed over the hand he held in a friendly clasp at this assurance, and he was at once inspired with implicit confidence in the physician.
"Thank you," he said, a trustful smile wreathing his thin lips, "I will be obedient and go to sleep, but I shall expect to find my father here when I awake."
"If Amos Palmer is your father, you will surely find him by your bedside after you have had your nap," Doctor Wesselhoff responded, and with another hand-clasp he withdrew from the room.
In less than five minutes Ray was sleeping quietly and restfully.
Half an hour later the great brain specialist rang the bell of Amos Palmer's handsome residence. The servant who answered it replied in the affirmative when asked if the gentleman of the house was in, and ushered the visitor into a richly furnished reception-room leading from the hall.
A few minutes later a sorrowful, despondent-looking gentleman entered, and politely, although somewhat absently, saluted his caller.
He did not look much like the upright, energetic and affable gentleman who had so courteously served the elegant Mrs. Vanderbeck a few weeks previous.
His face was wan and drawn with anguish, his cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken, heavy and lusterless; his form was bowed, his steps feeble and faltering.
After saluting Doctor Wesselhoff, he threw himself, with a heavy sigh, into a chair, where he immediately became absorbed in his own painful thoughts, appearing to forget that there was any one present, or that there were duties devolving upon him as host.
"Mr. Palmer," said the physician, breaking in upon his sorrowful reverie, "my name is Wesselhoff, and I have called to consult with you regarding the very peculiar circumstances connected with your son's disappearance."