"So this explains it," he said as he returned it to Jack. "Your father kept muttering about foolish speculations and ruin, but would not tell me what he meant. Now it is all clear. Poor Chadwick, I'm afraid from what he said that his fortune, all but a small amount, is wiped out."
"But will he get better, doctor?" asked Jack anxiously, disregarding the monetary aspect of the affair.
"That all depends," said the doctor seriously, "on his freedom from anxiety."
"You mean that he must not worry over money matters?"
"Precisely; but, as that letter states he is ruined, it will be hard to set his mind at rest. If there were only some way of meeting the situation!"
In the crucible of that moment an idea was borne to Jack that was destined to lead him into strange paths.
"I think I know of a way," he said quietly, "that is, if the brokers' message is not exaggerated."
But it was not. The next day confirmatory reports arrived of the wreck of Mr. Chadwick's fortunes. In his room, attended constantly by Dr. Mays, his friend as well as physician, the inventor raved of his losses.
"We have got to think of some way of easing his mind," said Dr. Mays, who had placed his regular practice in the hands of another doctor so that he might be with Mr. Chadwick. "If only his fortune could be won back."
"I think I know of a way," said Jack quietly.