CHAPTER XXIV
No, there could be no longer any doubt in her mind as she went into her bedroom, closed the door, and, unhooking the telephone receiver, called up the great specialist in rare diseases, Dr. Austin Atwood, M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H.
"Dr. Atwood," she said with scarcely concealed emotion, "this is Dr. Rosalind Hollis."
"How-de-do?" squeaked the aged specialist amiably.
"Oh, I am well enough, thank you, doctor—except in spirits. Dr. Atwood, you were right! He has got it, and I am perfectly wretched!"
"Who has got what?" retorted the voice of Atwood.
"The unfortunate young gentleman we saw to-day in the Park."
"What park?"
"Why, Central Park, doctor."
"Central Park! I haven't been in Central Park for ten years, my child."