“I am not busy just now, Mr. Blaisdell,” he said. “I can give you what time you want. What’s the trouble? You don’t look like a man afflicted with any physical ailment.”
Nick laughed lightly and shook his head, sizing up with augmented interest this bald, thin-featured, smooth-spoken physician who, so singularly and unexpectedly, had now incurred his distrust.
“No, nothing of the kind,” he replied. “If all men were as strong and healthy as I am, Doctor Devoll, those of your profession would find it hard sledding.”
“That is fortunate for you, at least,” smiled the physician.
“My business with you relates to another matter,” the detective added.
“Private business—or so my man informed me.”
“Yes.”
“Concerning what?” Doctor Devoll’s narrow eyes took on a searching squint.
“I want to ask you about the girl who was found unconscious in the hospital grounds late last night,” Nick explained. “More precisely, I want your opinion of her condition and the cause of it, as well as of the three previous cases very closely resembling it. It strikes me——”
“One moment, sir,” Doctor Devoll interrupted. “Why are you specially interested in the case?”