IX
THE RUBBER DAGGER
"Hypnotism can't begin to accomplish what Karatoff claims. He's a fake,Kennedy, a fake."
Professor Leslie Gaines of the Department of Experimental Psychology atthe university paced excitedly up and down Craig's laboratory.
"There have been complaints to the County Medical Society," he went on,without stopping, "and they have taken the case up and arranged ademonstration for this afternoon. I've been delegated to attend it andreport."
I fancied from his tone and manner that there was just a bit more thanprofessional excitement involved. We did not know Gaines intimately,though of course Kennedy knew of him and he of Kennedy. Some yearsbefore, I recollected, he had married Miss Edith Ashmore, whose familywas quite prominent socially, and the marriage had attracted a greatdeal of attention at the time, for she had been a student in one of hiscourses when he was only an assistant professor.
"Who is Karatoff, anyhow?" asked Kennedy. "What is known about him?"
"Dr. Galen Karatoff--a Russian, I believe," returned Gaines. "He claimsto be able to treat disease by hypnotism-suggestion, he calls it,though it is really something more than that. As nearly as I can makeout it must almost amount to thought transference, telepathy, or somesuch thing. Oh, he has a large following; in fact, some very well-knownpeople in the smart set are going to him. Why," he added, facing us,"Edith--my wife--has become interested in his hypnotic clinics, as hecalls them. I tell her it is more than half sham, but she won't believeit."
Gaines paused and it was evident that he hesitated over askingsomething.
"When is the demonstration?" inquired Kennedy, with unconcealedinterest.
The professor looked at his watch. "I'm going over there now; in fact,I'm just a bit late--only, I happened to think of you and it occurredto me that perhaps if you could add something to my report it mightcarry weight. Would you like to come with me? Really, I should thinkthat it might interest you."
So far Kennedy had said little besides asking a question or two. I knewthe symptoms. Gaines need not have hesitated or urged him. It was justthe thing that appealed to him.
"How did Mrs. Gaines become interested in the thing?" queried Craig, amoment later, outside, as we climbed into the car with the professor.
"Through an acquaintance who introduced her to Karatoff and the rest.Carita Belleville, the dancer, you know?"
Kennedy glanced at me and I nodded that I had heard of her. It was onlya few nights before that I had seen Carita at one of the midnightrevues, doing a dance which was described as the "hypnotic whirl," awild abandon of grace and motion. Carita Belleville had burst like ameteor on the sky of the "Great White Way," blazing a gorgeous trailamong the fixed stars of that gay firmament. She had even been "takenup" by society, or at least a certain coterie of it, had become muchsought after to do exhibition dancing at social affairs, and now waswell known in the amusement notes of the newspapers and at thefashionable restaurants. She had hosts of admirers and I had no doubtthat Mrs. Gaines might well have fallen under the spell of herpopularity.
"What is Miss Belleville's interest in Karatoff?" pursued Craig, keenly.
Gaines shrugged his shoulders. "Notoriety, perhaps," he replied. "It isa peculiar group that Karatoff has gathered about him, they tell me."
There was something unsatisfactory about the answer and I imagined thatGaines meant purposely to leave it so as not to prejudice the case.Somehow, I felt that there must be something risque in the doings ofKaratoff and his "patients." At any rate, it was only natural withanything that Carita Belleville was likely to be concerned with.
There was little time for further questions, for our destination wasnot far down the Drive from the university, and the car pulled upbefore one of the new handsome and ornate "studio apartments" up-town.
We followed Gaines into the building, and the hall-boy directed us to asuite on the first floor.
A moment later we were admitted by Karatoff himself to what had becomeknown as his "hypnotic clinic," really a most artistically furnishedstudio.
Karatoff himself was a tall, dark-haired fellow, bearded, somewhatsallow. Every feature of his remarkable face, however, was subordinateto a pair of wonderful, deep-set, piercing eyes. Even as he spoke,greeting Gaines on the rather ticklish mission he had come, andaccepting us with a quick glance and nod, we could see instantly thathe was, indeed, a fascinating fellow, every inch a mystic.
His clinic, or, as I have said, studio, carried out well the impressionof mysticism that one derived from the strange personality who presidedover it. There were only two or three rooms in the apartment, one beingthe large room down the end of a very short hall to which he conductedus. It was darkened, necessarily, since it was on the first floor ofthe tall building, and the air seemed to be heavy with odors thatsuggested the Orient. Altogether there was a cultivated dreaminessabout it that was no less exotic because studied. Doctor Karatoffpaused at the door to introduce us, and we could see that we wereundergoing a close scrutiny from the party who were assembled there.
On a quaint stand tea was brewing and the whole assemblage had anatmosphere of bohemian camaraderie which, with the professions ofKaratoff, promised well that Kennedy was not wasting time.
I watched particularly the exchange of greetings between ProfessorGaines and Edith Gaines, who was already there. Neither of them seemedto be perfectly at ease, though they betrayed as little as they could.However, one could not help noticing that each was watching the other,naturally.
Edith Gaines was a pretty little woman, petite, light of hair, dainty,the very type of woman who craved for and thrived on attention. Here atleast there seemed to be no lack of it. There was only one other womanin the room who attracted the men equally, Carita Belleville herself.Carita was indeed a stunning woman, tall, slender, dark, with awonderful pair of magnetic eyes.
As I watched, I could see that both women were quite friendly withDoctor Karatoff--perhaps even rivals for his attentions. I saw Gaineswatching Carita attentively, never in the mean time failing for long tolose sight of Mrs. Gaines. Was he trying to estimate the relativepopularity of the two in this strange group? If so, I failed to see anyapproval of either.
Introductions were now coming so fast that neither Kennedy nor I hadmuch opportunity except for the most cursory observation of the people.Among the men, however, I noticed two especially who proved worthobservation. One was Armand Marchant, well known as a broker, not somuch for his professional doings as for his other activities. Thoughsuccessful, he was better known as one of those who desert Wall Streetpromptly at the hour of closing, to be found late in the afternoon atthe tea dances up-town.
Another was Cyril Errol, a man of leisure, well known also in the clubworld. He had inherited an estate, small, perhaps, but ample to allowhim to maintain appearances. Errol impressed you as being one to whomthe good things of the world appealed mightily, a hedonist, and,withal, very much attracted to and by the ladies.
It was fortunate that the serving of tea enabled us to look about andget our bearings. In spite of the suppressed excitement and obviousrestraint of the occasion, we were able to learn much over the tea-cups.
Errol seemed to vibrate between the group about Mrs. Gaines and thatabout Miss Belleville, welcome wherever he went, for he was what mencommonly call a "good mixer." Marchant, on the other hand, was almostalways to be found not far from Edith Gaines. Perhaps it was the morebrilliant conversation that attracted him, for it ran on many subjects,but it was difficult to explain it so to my satisfaction. All of whichI saw Gaines duly noting, not for the report he had to make to theMedical Society, but for his own information. In fact, it was difficultto tell the precise degree of disapproval with which he regardedKaratoff, Errol, and Marchant, in turn, as he noted the intimacy ofEdith Gaines with them. I wished that we might observe them all whenthey did not know it, for I could not determine whether she was takingpleasure in piquing the professor or whether she was holding heradmirers in leash in his presence.
At any rate, I felt I need lay noclaim to clairvoyance to predict the nature of the report that Gaineswould prepare.
The conversation was at its height when Karatoff detached himself fromone of the groups and took a position in a corner of the room, alone.Not a word was said by him, yet as if by magic the buzz of conversationceased. Karatoff looked about as though proud of the power of even hissilence. Whatever might be said of the man, at least his very presenceseemed to command respect from his followers.
I had expected that he would make some reference to Gaines andourselves and the purpose of the meeting, but he avoided the subjectand, instead, chose to leap right into the middle of things.
"So that there can be no question about what I am able to do," hebegan, "I wish each of you to write on a piece of paper what you wouldlike to have me cause any one to do or say under hypnotism. You willplease fold the paper tightly, covering the writing. I will read thepaper to myself, still folded up, will hypnotize the subject, and willmake the subject do whatever is desired. That will be preliminary towhat I have to say later about my powers in hypnotic therapeutics."
Pieces of paper and little lead-pencils were distributed by anattendant and in the rustling silence that followed each cudgeled hisbrain for something that would put to the test the powers of Karatoff.
Thinking, I looked about the room. Near the speaker stood a table onwhich lay a curious collection of games and books, musical instruments,and other things that might suggest actions to be performed in thetest. My eye wandered to a phonograph standing next the table. Somehow,I could not get Mrs. Gaines and Carita Belleville out of my head.
Slowly I wrote, "Have Mrs. Gaines pick out a record, play it on thephonograph, then let her do as she pleases."
Some moments elapsed while the others wrote. Apparently they weretrying to devise methods of testing Doctor Karatoff's mettle. Then thepapers were collected and deposited on the table beside him.
Apparently at random Karatoff picked out one of the folded papers,then, seemingly without looking at it and certainly without unfoldingit, as far as I could determine, he held it up to his forehead.
It was an old trick, I knew. Perhaps he had palmed a sponge wet withalcohol or some other liquid, had brushed it over the paper, making thewriting visible through it, and drying out rapidly so as to leave thepaper opaque again long before any of us saw it a second time. Or washe really exercising some occult power? At any rate, he read it, orpretended to read it, at least.
"I am asked to hypnotize Mrs. Gaines," he announced, dropping the paperunconcernedly on the table beside the other pile, as though this weremere child's play for his powers. It was something of a shock torealize that it was my paper he had chanced to pick up first, and Ileaned forward eagerly, watching.
Mrs. Gaines rose and every eye was riveted on her as Karatoff placedher in an easy-chair before him. There was an expectant silence, asKaratoff moved the chair so that she could concentrate her attentiononly on a bright silver globe suspended from the ceiling. Thehalf-light, the heavy atmosphere, the quiet, assured manner of thechief actor in the scene, all combined to make hypnotization as nearlypossible as circumstances could. Karatoff moved before her, passing hishands with a peculiar motion before her eyes. It seemed an incrediblyshort time in which Edith Gaines yielded to the strange force whichfascinated the group.
"Quite susceptible," murmured Kennedy, beside me, engrossed in theoperation.
"It is my test," I whispered back, and he nodded.
Slowly Edith Gaines rose from the chair, faced us with unseeing eyes,except as Karatoff directed. Karatoff himself was a study. It seemed asif he had focused every ounce of his faculties on the accomplishment ofthe task in hand. Slowly still the woman moved, as if in a dream walk,over toward the phonograph, reached into the cabinet beneath it anddrew forth a book of records. Karatoff faced us, as if to assure usthat at that point he had resigned his control and was now letting heract for her subconscious self.
Her fingers passed over page after page until finally she stopped, drewforth the record, placed it on the machine, wound it, then placed therecord on the revolving disk.
My first surprise was quickly changed to gratification. She had pickedout the music to the "Hypnotic Whirl." I bent forward, more intent.What would she do next?
As she turned I could see, even in the dim light, a heightened color inher cheeks, as though the excitement of the catchy music had infectedher. A moment later she was executing, and very creditably, too, animitation of Carita herself in the Revue. What did it mean? Was it thatconsciously or unconsciously she was taking the slender dancer as hermodel? The skill and knowledge that she put into the dance showedplainly.
Next to Kennedy, I saw Gaines leaning far forward, looking now at hiswife, now at the little group. I followed his eyes. To my surprise, Isaw Marchant, his gaze riveted on Edith Gaines as if she had been thestar performer in a play. Evidently my chance request to Karatoff hadbeen builded better than I knew. I ran my gaze over the others. Errolwas no less engrossed than Marchant. Quickly I glanced at Carita,wondering whether she might be gratified by the performance of a pupil.Whether it was natural grace or real hypnotism in the "Hypnotic Whirl,"I was surprised to see on Carita's face something that looked strangelyakin to jealousy. It was as though some other woman had usurped herprerogative. She leaned over to speak to Errol with the easyfamiliarity of an old admirer. I could not hear what was said andperhaps it was inconsequential. In fact, it must have been the veryinconsequentiality of his reply that piqued her. He glanced at Marchanta moment, as if she had said something about him, then back at EdithGaines. On his part, Professor Gaines was growing more and more furious.
I had just about decided that the little drama in the audience was offar more importance and interest than even the dance, when the musicceased. Karatoff approached, took Mrs. Gaines by the hand, led her backto the chair, and, at a word, she regained her normal consciousness. Asshe rose, still in a daze it seemed, it was quite evident that she hadno waking realization of what had happened, for she walked back and satdown beside her husband, quite as though nothing had happened.
As for me, I could not help wondering what had actually happened. Whatdid it all mean? Had Mrs. Gaines expressed her own self--or was itKaratoff--or Marchant--or Errol? What was the part played by CaritaBelleville? Gaines did not betray anything to her, but their mutualattitude was eloquent. There was something of which he disapproved andshe knew it, some lack of harmony. What was the cause?
As for Karatoff's exhibition, it was all truly remarkable, whether inhis therapeutics the man was a faker or not.
Karatoff seemed to realize that he had made a hit. Without giving anyone a chance to question him, he reached down quickly and picked upanother of the papers, repeating the process through which he had gonebefore.
"Mr. Errol," he summoned, placing the second folded paper on the tablewith the first.
Errol rose and went forward and Karatoff placed him in the chair as hehad Mrs. Gaines. There seemed to be no hesitation, at least on the partof Karatoff's followers, to being hypnotized.
Whatever it was written on the paper, the writer had evidently nottrusted to chance, as I had, but had told specifically what to do.
At the mute bidding of Karatoff Errol rose. We watched breathlessly.Deliberately he walked across the room to the table, and, to theastonishment of all save one, picked up a rubber dagger, one of thosewith which children play, which was lying in the miscellaneous pile onthe table. I had not noticed it, but some one's keen eye had, andevidently it had suggested a melodramatic request.
Quickly Errol turned. If he had been a motion-picture actor, he couldnot have portrayed better the similitude of hate that was written onhis face. A few strides and he had advanced toward our little audience,now keyed up to the highest pitch of excitement by the extraordinaryexhibition.
"Of course," remarked Karatoff, as at a word Errol paused, stillpoising the dagger, "you know that under hypnotism in the psychologicallaboratory a p
atient has often struck at his 'enemy' with a rubberdagger, going through all the motions of real passion. Now!"
No word was said by Karatoff to indicate to Errol what it was that hewas to do. But a gasp went up from some one as he took another step andit was evident that it was Marchant whom he had singled out. For just amoment Errol poised the rubber dagger over his "victim," as ifgloating. It was dramatic, realistic. As Errol paused, Marchant smiledat the rest of us, a sickly smile, I thought, as though he would havesaid that the play was being carried too far.
Never for a moment did Errol take from him the menacing look. It wasonly a moment in the play, yet it was so unexpected that it seemedages. Then, swiftly, down came the dagger on Marchant's left side justover the breast, the rubber point bending pliantly as it descended.
A sharp cry escaped Marchant. I looked quickly. He had fallen forward,face down, on the floor.
Edith Gaines screamed as we rushed to Marchant and turned him over. Forthe moment, as Kennedy, Karatoff, and Gaines bent over him andendeavored to loosen his collar and apply a restorative, consternationreigned in the little circle. I bent over, too, and looked first atMarchant's flushed face, then at Kennedy. Marchant was dead!
There was not a mark on him, apparently. Only a moment before he hadbeen one of us. We could look at one another only in amazement, tingedwith fear. Killed by a rubber dagger? Was it possible?
"Call an ambulance--quick!" directed Kennedy to me, though I knew thathe knew it was of no use except as a matter of form.
We stood about the prostrate form, stunned. In a few moments the policewould be there. Instinctively we looked at Karatoff. Plainly he wasnervous and overwrought now. His voice shook as he brought Errol out ofthe trance, and Errol, dazed, uncomprehending, struggled to take in thehorribly unreal tragedy which greeted his return to consciousness.
"It--it was an accident," muttered Karatoff, eagerly trying to justifyhimself, though trembling for once in his life. "Arteriosclerosis,perhaps, hardening of the arteries, some weakness of the heart. Inever--"
He cut the words short as Edith Gaines reeled and fell into herhusband's arms. She seemed completely prostrated by the shock. Or wasit weakness following the high mental tension of her own hypnotization?Together we endeavored to revive her, waiting for the first flutter ofher eyelids, which seemed an interminable time.
Errol in the mean time was pacing the floor like one in a dream. Eventshad followed one another so fast in the confusion that I had only anunrelated series of impressions. It was not until a moment later that Irealized the full import of the affair, when I saw Kennedy standingnear the table in the position Karatoff had assumed, a strange look ofperplexity on his face. Slowly I realized what was the cause. Thepapers on which were written the requests for the exhibitions ofKaratoff's skill were gone!
Whatever was done must be done quickly, and Kennedy looked about with aglance that missed nothing. Before I could say a word about the papershe had crossed the room to where Marchant had been standing in thelittle group about Edith Gaines as we entered. On a side-table stoodthe teacup from which he had been sipping. With his back to the rest,Kennedy drew from his breast pocket a little emergency case he carriedcontaining a few thin miniature glass tubes. Quickly he poured the fewdrops of the dregs of the tea into one of the tubes, then into otherstea from the other cups.
Again he looked at the face of Marchant as though trying to read in thehorrified smile that had petrified on it some mysterious secret hiddenunderneath. Slowly the question was shaping in my mind, was it, asKaratoff would have us believe, an accident?
The clang of a bell outside threw us all into worse confusion, and amoment later, almost together, a white-coated surgeon and a blue-coatedpoliceman burst into the room. It seemed almost no time, in the swirlof events, before the policeman was joined by a detective assigned bythe Central Office to that district.
"Well, doctor," demanded the detective as he entered, "what's theverdict?"
"Arteriosclerosis, I think," replied the young surgeon. "They tell methere was some kind of hypnotic seance going on. One of them namedErrol struck at him with a rubber dagger, and--"
"Get out!" scoffed the Central Office man. "Killed by a rubber dagger!Say, what do you think we are? What did you find when you entered,sergeant?"
The policeman handed the detective the rubber dagger which he hadpicked up, forgotten, on the floor where Errol had dropped it when hecame out from the hypnotization.
The detective took it gingerly and suspiciously, with a growl. "I'llhave the point of this analyzed. It may be--well--we won't say what maybe. But I can tell you what is. You, Doctor Karatoff, or whatever yourname is, and you, Mr. Errol, are under arrest. It's a good deal easierto take you now than it will be later. Then if you can get a judge torelease you, we'll at least know where you are."
"This is outrageous, preposterous!" stormed Karatoff.
"Can't help it," returned the officer, coolly.
"Why," exclaimed Carita Belleville, excitedly projecting herself beforethe two prisoners, "it's ridiculous! Even the ambulance surgeon says itwas arteriosclerosis, an accident. I--"
"Very well, madam," calmed the sergeant. "So much the better. They'llget out of our hands that much quicker. Just at present it is my duty."
Errol was standing silent, his eyes averted from the hideous form onthe floor, not by word or action betraying a feeling. The police movedto the door.
Weak and trembling still from the triple shock she had received, EdithGaines leaned heavily on the arm of her husband, but it was, as nearlyas I could make out, only for physical support.
"I told you, Edith, it was a dangerous business," I heard him mutter."Only I never contemplated that they'd carry it this far. Now you seewhat such foolishness can lead to."
Weak though she was, she drew away and flashed a glance at him,resenting his man's "I-told-you-so" manner. The last I saw of them inthe confusion was as they drove off in the car, still unreconciled.
Kennedy seemed well contented, for the present at least, to allow thepolice a free hand with Errol and Karatoff. As for me, Mrs. Gaines andCarita Belleville presented a perplexing problem, but I said nothing,for he was hurrying back now to his laboratory.
At once he drew forth the little tube containing the few drops of teaand emptied a drop or two into a beaker of freshly distilled water ascarefully as if the tea had been some elixir of life. As he wasexamining the contents of the beaker his face clouded with thought.
"Do you find anything?" I asked, eagerly.
Kennedy shook his head. "There's something wrong," he hazarded."Perhaps it's only fancy, but I am sure that there is something with aslight odor in the tea, something tea-like, but with a more bittertaste, something that would be nauseous if not concealed in the tea.There's more than tannin and sugar here."
"Then you think that some one present placed something in the tea?" Iinquired, shuddering at the thought that we had run some unknown danger.
"I can't just say, without further investigation of this and the othersamples I took."
"Still, you have eliminated that ridiculous dagger theory," I ventured.
"The police can never appreciate the part it played," Craig answered,non-committally, laying out various chemicals preparatory to hisexhaustive analysis. "I began to suspect something the moment I noticedthat those notes which we all wrote were gone. When we find out aboutthis tea we may find who took them. Perhaps the mystery is not such amystery after all, then."
There seemed to be nothing that I could do, in the mean time, except torefrain from hindering Kennedy in his investigations, and I decided toleave him at the laboratory while I devoted my time to watching whatthe police might by chance turn up, even if they should prove to beworking on the wrong angle of the case.
I soon found that they were showing energy, if nothing else. Althoughit was so soon after the death of Marchant, they had determined thatthere could not have been anything but rubber on the end of the toydagger which had excited the doub
ts of the detective.
As for the autopsy that was performed on Marchant, it did, indeed, showthat he was suffering from hardening of the arteries, due to his mannerof living, as Karatoff had asserted. Indeed, the police succeeded inshowing that it was just for that trouble that Marchant was going toKaratoff, which, to my mind, seemed quite sufficient to establish thetherapeutic hypnotist as all that Gaines had accused him of being. Evento my lay mind the treatment of arteriosclerosis by mental healingseemed, to say the least, incongruous.
Yet the evidence against Karatoff and Errol was so flimsy that they hadlittle trouble in getting released on bail, though, of course, it wasfixed very high.
My own inquiries among the other reporters on the Star who might knowsomething offered a more promising lead. I soon found that Errol hadnone too savory a reputation. His manner of life had added nothing tohis slender means, and there was a general impression among his fellowclub-members that unfortunate investments had made serious inroads intothe principal of his fortune. Still, I hesitated to form even anopinion on gossip.
Quite unsatisfied with the result of my investigation, I could notrestrain my impatience to get back to the laboratory to find outwhether Kennedy had made any progress in his tests of the tea.
"If you had been five minutes earlier," he greeted me, "you would havebeen surprised to find a visitor."
"A visitor?" I repeated. "Who?"
"Carita Belleville," he replied, enjoying my incredulity.
"What could she want?" I asked, at length.
"That's what I've been wondering," he agreed "Her excuse was plausible.She said that she had just heard why I had come with Gaines. I supposeit was half an hour that she spent endeavoring to convince me thatKaratoff and Errol could not possibly have had any other connectionthan accidental with the death of Marchant."
"Could it have been a word for them and half an hour for herself?" Iqueried, mystified.
Kennedy shrugged. "I can't say. At any rate, I must see both Karatoffand Errol, now that they are out. Perhaps they did send her, thinking Imight fall for her. She hinted pretty broadly at using my influencewith Gaines on his report. Then, again, she may simply have beenwondering how she herself stood."
"Have you found anything?" I asked, noticing that his laboratory tablewas piled high with its usual paraphernalia.
"Yes," he replied, laconically, taking a bottle of concentratedsulphuric acid and pouring a few drops in a beaker of slightly tingedwater.
The water turned slowly to a beautiful green. No sooner was thereaction complete than he took some bromine and added it. Slowly againthe water changed, this time from the green to a peculiar violet red.Adding more water restored the green color.
"That's the Grandeau test," he nodded, with satisfaction. "I've triedthe physiological test, too, with frogs from the biological department,and it shows the effect on the heart that I--"
"What shows the effect?" I interrupted, somewhat impatiently.
"Oh, to be sure," he smiled. "I forgot I hadn't told you what Isuspected. Why, digitalis--foxglove, you know. I suppose it neveroccurred to the police that the rubber dagger might have covered up apeculiar poisoning? Well, if they'll take the contents of the stomach,in alcohol, with a little water acidulated, strain off the filtrate andtry it on a dog, they will see that its effect is the effect ofdigitalis. Digitalis is an accumulative poison and a powerful stimulantof arterial walls, by experimental evidence an ideal drug for thepurpose of increasing blood pressure. Don't you see it?" he added,excitedly. "The rubber dagger was only a means to an end. Some one whoknew the weakness of Marchant first placed digitalis in his tea. Thatwas possible because of the taste of the tea. Then, in the excitementof the act pantomimed by Errol, Marchant's disease carried him off,exactly as was to be expected under the circumstances. It was clever,diabolically clever. Whoever did it destroyed the note in which the actwas suggested and counted that no one would ever stop to search for apoison in the tangle of events."
Slowly but clearly I began to realize how certainly Kennedy wasreconstructing the strange case. But who was it? What was the motiveback of this sinister murder that had been so carefully planned that noone would ever suspect a crime?
I had hardly framed the queries when our telephone rang. It was theCentral Office man. The detective had anticipated my own line ofinquiry, only had gone much further with it. He had found a clearrecord of the business relations existing between Errol and Marchant.One episode consisted of a stock deal between them in which Errol hadinvested in a stock which Marchant was promoting and was known to bewhat brokers call "cats and dogs." That, I reasoned, must have been thebasis of the gossip that Errol had suffered financial losses thatseriously impaired his little fortune. It was an important item andKennedy accepted it gladly, but said nothing of his own discovery. Thetime had not arrived yet to come out into the open.
For a few moments after the talk with the detective Kennedy seemed tobe revolving the case, as though in doubt whether the new informationcleared it up or added to the mystery. Then he rose suddenly.
"We must find Karatoff," he announced.
Whatever might have been the connection of the hypnotist with thisstrange case, he was far too clever to betray himself by any suchmisstep as seeming to avoid inquiry. We found him easily at his studioapartment, nor did we have any difficulty in gaining admittance. Heknew that he was watched and that frankness was his best weapon ofdefense.
"Of course," opened Kennedy, "you know that investigation has shownthat you were right in your diagnosis of the trouble with Marchant. Wasit arteriosclerosis for which you were treating him?"
"It would be unprofessional to discuss it," hastily parried Karatoff,"but, since Mr. Marchant is now dead, I think I may say that it was. Infact, few persons, outside of those whom I have associated about me,realize to what a wonderful extent hypnotism may be carried in thetreatment of disease. Why, I have even had wonderful success with suchdisorders as diabetes mellitus. We are only on the threshold ofunderstanding what a wonderful thing is the human mind in its effect onthe material body."
"But another patient might have known what Marchant was being treatedfor?" interrupted Kennedy, ignoring the defense of Karatoff, which wasproceeding along the stereotyped lines of such vagaries which seemnever to be without followers.
Karatoff looked at him a moment in surprise. Evidently he was doingsome hasty mental calculation to determine what was Craig's ulteriormotive. And, in spite of his almost uncanny claims and performances, Icould see that he was able to read Kennedy's mind no whit better thanmyself.
"I suppose so," he admitted. "No doctor was ever able to control hispatients' tongues. Sometimes they boast of their diseases."
"Especially if they are women?" hinted Kennedy, watching the effect ofthe remark keenly. "I have just had the pleasure of a visit from CaritaBelleville in my laboratory."
"Indeed?" returned Karatoff, with difficulty restraining his curiosity."Miss Belleville has been very kind in introducing me to some of herfriends and acquaintances, and I flatter myself that I have been ableto do them much good."
"Then she was not a patient?" pursued Kennedy, studiously avoidingenlightening Karatoff on the visit.
"Rather a friend," he replied, quickly. "It was she who introduced Mr.Errol."
"They are quite intimate, I believe," put in Kennedy at a chance.
"Really, I knew very little about it," Karatoff avoided.
"Did she introduce Mr. Marchant?"
"She introduced Mrs. Gaines, who introduced Mr. Marchant," thehypnotist replied, with apparent frankness.
"You were treating Mrs. Gaines?" asked Craig, again shifting the attackunexpectedly.
"Yes," admitted Karatoff, stopping.
"I imagine her trouble was more mental than physical," remarkedKennedy, in a casual tone, as though feeling his way.
Karatoff looked up keenly, but was unable to read Kennedy's face. "Ithink," he said, slowly, "that one trouble was that Mrs. Gaines likedthe social life b
etter than the simple life."
"Your clinic, Mr. Marchant, and the rest better than her husband andthe social life at the university," amplified Kennedy. "I think you areright. She had drifted away from her husband, and when a woman doesthat she has hosts of admirers--of a certain sort. I should say thatMr. Errol was the kind who would care more for the social life than thesimple life, as you put it, too."
I did not gather in what direction Kennedy was tending, but it wasevident that Karatoff felt more at ease. Was it because the questseemed to be leading away from himself?
"I had noticed something of the sort," he ventured. "I saw that theywere alike in that respect, but, of course, Mr. Marchant was herfriend."
Suddenly the implication flashed over me, but before I could sayanything Kennedy cut in, "Then Mr. Errol might have been enacting underhypnotism what were really his own feelings and desires?"
"I cannot say that," replied Karatoff, seeking to dodge the issue. "Butunder the influence of suggestion I suppose it is true that anevil-minded person might suggest to another the commission of a crime,and the other, deprived of free will, might do it. The rubber daggerhas often been used for sham murders. The possibility of actual murdercannot be denied. In this case, however, there can be no question thatit was an unfortunate accident."
"No question?" demanded Kennedy, directly.
If Karatoff was concealing anything, he made good concealment. Eitherto protect himself or another he showed no evidence of weakening hisfirst theory of the case.
"No question as far as I know," he reiterated.
I wondered whether Kennedy planned to enlighten him on the results ofhis laboratory tests, but was afraid to look at either for fear ofbetraying some hint. I was glad I did not. Kennedy's next questioncarried him far afield from the subject.
"Did you know that the Medical Society were interested in you and yourclinic before the demonstration before Professor Gaines was arranged?"
"I suspected some one was interested," answered Karatoff, quickly, "ButI had no idea who it might be. As I think it over now, perhaps it wasProfessor Gaines who instigated the whole inquiry. He would most likelybe interested. My work is so far in advance of any that theconservative psychologists do that he would naturally feel hostile,would he not?"
"Especially with the added personal motive of knowing that his wife wasone of your patients, along with Carita Belleville, Marchant, Errol,and the rest," added Kennedy.
Karatoff smiled. "I would not have said that myself. But since you havesaid it, I cannot help admitting its truth. Don't you suppose I couldpredict the nature of any report he would make?"
Karatoff faced Kennedy squarely. There was an air almost of triumph inhis eyes. "I think I had better say no more, except under the advice ofmy lawyer," he remarked, finally. "When the police want me, they canfind me here."
Quite evident to me now, as we went out of the studio, was the factthat Karatoff considered himself a martyr, that he was not only thevictim of an accident, but of persecution as well.
"The fishing was good," remarked Kennedy, tersely, as we reached thestreet. "Now before I see Errol I should like to see Gaines again."
I tried to reason it out as we walked along in silence. Marchant hadknown Edith Gaines intimately. Carita Belleville had known Errol aswell. I recalled Errol hovering about Mrs. Gaines at the tea and theincident during the seance when Carita Belleville had betrayed herannoyance over some remark by Errol. The dancing by Edith Gaines hadgiven a flash of the jealous nature of the woman. Had it been interestin Errol that had led her to visit the laboratory? Kennedy was weavinga web about some one, I knew. But about whom?
As we passed a corner, he paused, entered a drugstore and called upseveral numbers at a pay-station telephone booth. Then we turned intothe campus and proceeded rapidly toward the laboratory of thepsychological department. Gaines was there, sitting at his desk,writing, as we entered.
"I'm glad to see you," he greeted, laying down his work. "I am justfinishing the draft of my report on that Karatoff affair. I have beentrying to reach you by telephone to know whether you would add anythingto it. Is there anything new?"
"Yes," returned Kennedy, "there is something new. I've just come fromKaratoff's and on the way I decided suddenly that it was time we didsomething. So I have called up, and the police will bring Errol here,as well as Miss Belleville. Karatoff will come--he won't dare stayaway; and I also took the liberty of calling Mrs. Gaines."
"To come here?" repeated Gaines, in mild surprise. "All of them?"
"Yes. I hope you will pardon me for intruding, but I want to borrowsome of your psychological laboratory apparatus, and I thought theeasiest way would be to use it here rather than take it all over to myplace and set it up again."
"I'm sure everything is at your service," offered Gaines. "It's alittle unexpected, but if the others can stand the chaotic condition ofthe room, I guess we can."
Kennedy had been running his eye over the various instruments whichGaines and his students used in their studies, and was now examiningsomething in a corner on a little table. It was a peculiar affair,quite simple, but conveying to me no idea of its use. There seemed tobe a cuff, a glass chamber full of water into which it fitted, tubesand wires that attached various dials and recording instruments to thechamber, and what looked like a chronograph.
"That is my new plethysmograph," remarked Gaines, noting with somesatisfaction how Kennedy had singled it out.
"I've heard the students talk of it," returned Kennedy. "It's animproved apparatus, Walter, that records one's blood flow." I noddedpolitely and concealed my ignorance in a discreet silence, hoping thatGaines would voluntarily enlighten us.
"One of my students is preparing an exhaustive table," went on Gaines,as I had hoped, "showing the effects on blood distribution of differentstimuli--for instance, cold, heat, chloroform, arenalin, desire,disgust, fear; physical conditions, drugs, emotions--all sorts ofthings can be studied by this plethysmograph which can be set to recordblood flow through the brain, the extremities, any part of the body.When the thing is charted I think we shall have opened up a new field."
"Certainly a very promising one for me," put in Kennedy. "How has thismachine been improved? I've seen the old ones, but this is the firsttime I've seen this. How does it work?"
"Well," explained Gaines, with just a touch of pride, "you see, forstudying blood flow in the extremities, I slip this cuff over my arm,we'll say. Suppose it is the effect of pain I want to study. Just jabthat needle in my other arm. Don't mind. It's in the interest ofscience. See, when I winced then, the plethysmograph recorded it. Itsmarts a bit and I'm trying to imagine it smarts worse. You'll see howpain affects blood flow."
As he watched the indicator, Kennedy asked one question after anotherabout the working of the machine, and the manner in which the modernpsychologist was studying every emotion.
"By the way, Walter," he interrupted, glancing at his watch, "call upand see if they've started with Errol and the rest yet. Don't stop,Gaines. I must understand this thing before they get here. It's justthe thing I want."
"I should be glad to let you have it, then," replied Gaines.
"I think I'll need something new with these people," went on Kennedy."Why, do you know what I've discovered?"
"No, but I hope it's something I can add to my report?"
"Perhaps. We'll see. In the first place, I found that digitalis hadbeen put in Marchant's tea."
"They'll be here directly," I reported from the telephone, hanging itup and joining them again.
"It couldn't have been an accident, as Karatoff said," went on Kennedy,rapidly. "The drug increased the blood pressure of Marchant, who wasalready suffering from hardening of the arteries. In short, it is mybelief that the episode of the rubber dagger was deliberately planned,an elaborate scheme to get Marchant out of the way. No one else seemsto have noticed it, but those slips of paper on which we all wrote havedisappeared. At the worst, it would look like an accident, Karatoffwould be bl
amed, and--" There was a noise outside as the car pulled up.
"Here, let me take this off before any of them see it," whisperedGaines, removing the cuff, just as the door opened and Errol andKaratoff, Carita Belleville and Edith Gaines entered.
Before even a word of greeting passed, Kennedy stepped forward. "It wasNOT an accident," he repeated. "It was a deliberately planned,apparently safe means of revenge on Marchant, the lover of Mrs. Gaines.Without your new plethysmograph, Gaines, you might have thrown it on aninnocent person!"
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