He had one of the servants take him upstairs to the corridor outside of Baldwin’s suite, and sent word to the physician that he was there.
After a wait of ten or fifteen minutes, Vanderpool himself emerged hurriedly. His manner was greatly agitated and his eyes had a look of horror in them.
He took Nick by the arm and nervously drew him aside.
“Good heavens, Carter!” he whispered hoarsely. “This is worse than I feared. Grantley is a fiend—nothing less! I would not have believed it——”
“He has actually done something to Baldwin, then?” Nick demanded quickly.
“He has done his worst,” was the grave reply.
“You mean?”
The physician looked about him. His grip on Nick’s arm became painful, and he leaned closer.
“Mr. Baldwin is a hopeless idiot, I fear,” he announced, in a broken whisper.
The detective gave a gasp of sympathy, and recoiled a step.