Stone had taken the advice, and started off on foot. After lingering at the door for a few minutes, the specialist closed it and disappeared into the house. Very shortly the lights went out, and he reappeared on the steps.
Seemingly, he, too, was going for a stroll, although it was nearly four o’clock in the morning by that time.
Curiously enough, Follansbee headed in the same direction which Stone had taken, and, more curious still, a slouching figure emerged from an areaway, crossed the street, and flitted along behind the head physician of St. Swithin’s.
The night had been full enough, but it looked as if other things were still to be crammed into it.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A STRANGE DEVELOPMENT.
Doctor Stephen Follansbee walked along at a slow pace, but his movements were not characteristic. His hands were not folded behind him, and his head was erect, as if he were peering into the distance in front, instead of casting his eyes on the ground as he usually did.
He had walked down Amsterdam Avenue for several blocks when a faint monosyllable issued from his lips.
“Ah!” he murmured, and sightly quickened his pace.