"Thank you, Mrs. Morowitch," said Kennedy, when it was evident
that she either could not or would not add anything to what she
had said. "Pardon us for causing all this trouble."

"No trouble at all," she replied graciously, though I could see
she was intent on every word and motion of Kennedy and Andrews.

Kennedy stopped the car at a drug-store a few blocks away and
asked for the business telephone directory. In an instant, under
chemists, he put his finger on the name of Poissan--"Henri
Poissan, electric furnaces,--William St.," he read.

"I shall visit him to-morrow morning. Now for the doctor."

Doctor Thornton was an excellent specimen of the genus physician
to the wealthy--polished, cool, suave. One of Mr. Andrews's men,
as I have said, had seen him already, but the interview had been
very unsatisfactory. Evidently, however, the doctor had been
turning something over in his mind since then and had thought
better of it. At any rate, his manner was cordial enough now.

As he closed the doors to his office, he began to pace the floor.
"Mr. Andrews," he said, "I am in some doubt whether I had better
tell you or the coroner what I know. There are certain
professional secrets that a doctor must, as a duty to his
patients, conceal. That is professional ethics. But there are
also cases when, as a matter of public policy, a doctor should
speak out."