Allonby's office. For a moment he had the thrilling sense that he
was being shadowed.

"Caesar, if _he_ could talk--!" McCarren continued. "Know who he is,
of course? Dr. John B. Stell, the biggest alienist in the country--"

Granice, with a start, bent again between the heads in front of him.
"_That_ man--the fourth from the aisle? You're mistaken. That's not
Dr. Stell."

McCarren laughed. "Well, I guess I've been in court enough to know
Stell when I see him. He testifies in nearly all the big cases where
they plead insanity."

A cold shiver ran down Granice's spine, but he repeated obstinately:
"That's not Dr. Stell."

"Not Stell? Why, man, I _know_ him. Look--here he comes. If it isn't
Stell, he won't speak to me."

The little dried-up man was moving slowly up the aisle. As he neared
McCarren he made a slight gesture of recognition.

"How'do, Doctor Stell? Pretty slim show, ain't it?" the reporter
cheerfully flung out at him. And Mr. J. B. Hewson, with a nod of
amicable assent, passed on.

Granice sat benumbed. He knew he had not been mistaken--the man who
had just passed was the same man whom Allonby had sent to see him: a
physician disguised as a detective. Allonby, then, had thought him