“Will you kindly direct me to the Thornsdale place?”
I told him the best way to reach Dr. Calgroni’s without wading in mud, and he departed, with a brief “Thank You.”
The next night I saw the stranger, ashen of face and decidedly inwardly shaken, hurriedly purchase a ticket and leave on the 9:45 train for New York.
Immediately I sought the telegraph dispatcher.
“You are aware of the queer actions of Dr. Calgroni—”
“I should say! He’s a nut.”
“I can’t say as to that, but to whom did he send the message the other night?”
“You won’t let it out I tipped you off?”
I solemnly held up my right hand.
“Well,” in a whisper, “he wired a hospital for their best surgical man.”