Helen Cumberly grew slowly quite pallid.

"Good night," she said; and bowing to the detective and to the surgeon,
she prepared to depart.

Mr. Hilton touched Dr. Cumberly's arm, as he, too, was about to retire.

"May I hope," he whispered, "that you will return and give me the
benefit of your opinion in making out my report?"

Dr. Cumberly glanced at his daughter; and seeing her to be perfectly
composed:--"For the moment, I have formed no opinion, Mr. Hilton,"
he said, quietly, "not having had an opportunity to conduct a proper
examination."

Hilton bent and whispered, confidentially, in the other's ear:--

"She was drugged!"

The innuendo underlying the words struck Dr. Cumberly forcibly, and he
started back with his brows drawn together in a frown.

"Do you mean that she was addicted to the use of drugs?" he asked,
sharply; "or that the drugging took place to-night."

"The drugging DID take place to-night!" whispered the other. "An
injection was made in the left shoulder with a hypodermic syringe; the
mark is quite fresh."

Dr. Cumberly glared at his fellow practitioner, angrily.