“So Gleason states. It appears that they were not learned by the hospital authorities.”
“The whole business does seem strange, indeed,” Chick said more gravely. “It looks as if we were up against a very curious and complicated mess.”
“And crooks of extraordinary craft and cunning,” put in Patsy earnestly.
“I agree with both of you,” said Nick, glancing at his watch. “Come, we are due for a late lunch. I will make further inquiries this afternoon, and then—well, I will have decided by evening how we can begin our work. The autopsy to-morrow may show us the way.”
CHAPTER V.
ANOTHER STRANGE CASE.
The steeple bell of a church within a stone’s throw of Hamilton Square struck twelve. The successive strokes fell with monotonous reverberations on the midnight air, breaking with solemn resonance the quietude of that reputable residential section of Madison.
For Hamilton Square, though not far from the business district, was in an attractive part of the city, to which the extensive tract of land had been donated years before, in part for a public square and the remainder for the site, park, and gardens of the now locally famous Osgood Hospital, established by the donor, and still largely supported by the income from his bequests.
The last stroke of the bell scarce had died away to a customary stillness, when a burly policeman, one James Donovan, appeared on one side of the square flanking the hospital grounds, moving along near the iron fence and pausing now and then to gaze across the broad avenue at the opposite dwellings, the most of which were shrouded in darkness.
Presently, approaching a gate in the fence, he muttered to himself: