the absurd speech aside.

"Dr. Faber," she said, "won't you just please assure Miss Malgregor once
more that the little Italian boy's death last week was in no conceivable
way her fault,--that nobody blames her in the slightest, or holds her in
any possible way responsible."

"Why, what nonsense!" snapped the Senior Surgeon. "What--!"

"And the Portuguese woman the week before that," interrupted Rae
Malgregor dully.

"Stuff and nonsense!" said the Senior Surgeon. "It's nothing but
coincidence! Pure coincidence! It might have happened to anybody!"

"And she hasn't slept for almost a fortnight." the Superintendent
confided, "nor touched a drop of food or drink, as far as I can make
out, except just black coffee. I've been expecting this break-down for
some days."

"And-the-young-drug-store-clerk-the-week-before-that," Rae Malgregor
resumed with sing-song monotony.

Brusquely the Senior Surgeon stepped forward and taking the girl by her
shoulders, jerked her sharply round to the light, and, with firm,
authoritative fingers, rolled one of her eyelids deftly back from its
inordinately dilated pupil. Equally brusquely he turned away again.

"Nothing but moonshine!" he muttered. "Nothing in the world but too much
coffee dope taken on an empty stomach,--'empty brain,' I'd better have