determined to be up early in the morning and go for the tubes that
Kharkoff was to prepare.

But in the morning Kennedy was gone. I dressed hastily, and was
just about to go out when he hurried in, showing plainly the effects
of having spent a sleepless night. He flung an early edition of a
newspaper on the table.

"Too late," he exclaimed. "I tried to reach Kharkoff, but it was
too late."

"Another East Side Bomb Outrage," I read. "While returning at a
late hour last night from a patient, Dr. Nicholas Kharkoff, of
- East Broadway, was severely injured by a bomb which had been
placed in his hallway earlier in the evening. Dr. Kharkoff, who is
a well-known physician on the East Side, states that he has been
constantly shadowed by some one unknown for the past week or two.
He attributes his escape with his life to the fact that since he
was shadowed he has observed extreme caution. Yesterday his cook
was poisoned and is now dangerously ill. Dr. Kharkoff stands high
in the Russian community, and it is thought by the police that the
bomb was placed by a Russian political agent, as Kharkoff has been
active in the ranks of the revolutionists."

"But what made you anticipate it?" I asked of Kennedy, considerably
mystified.

"The manuscript," he replied.

"The manuscript? How? Where is it?"