"I want to ask you a question, Dr. Jervis, and please forgive me if I
beg you to put aside your professional reserve just a little in my
favour. I want you to tell me if you think Dr. Thorndyke has any kind of
hope or expectation of being able to save poor Reuben from the dreadful
peril that threatens him."

This was a rather pointed question, and I took some time to consider it
before replying.

"I should like," I replied at length, "to tell you as much as my duty to
my colleague will allow me to; but that is so little that it is hardly
worth telling. However, I may say this without breaking any confidence:
Dr. Thorndyke has undertaken the case and is working hard at it, and he
would, most assuredly, have done neither the one nor the other if he had
considered it a hopeless one."

"That is a very encouraging view of the matter," said she, "which, had,
however, already occurred to me. May I ask if anything came of your
visit to Scotland Yard? Oh, please don't think me encroaching; I am so
terribly anxious and troubled."

"I can tell you very little about the results of our expedition, for I
know very little; but I have an idea that Dr. Thorndyke is not
dissatisfied with his morning's work. He certainly picked up some facts,
though I have no idea of their nature, and as soon as we reached home he
developed a sudden desire to examine the 'Thumbograph.'"

"Thank you, Dr. Jervis," she said gratefully. "You have cheered me more
than I can tell you, and I won't ask you any more questions. Are you