Jerome telephoned to headquarters.

It was a strange case.

At the precise minute when his would-be auditors were beginning to
fidget over his absence, the police of San Francisco had started
the search for the great doctor. Jerome had followed his
intuition. It had led him into a tragedy and he was ready to swear
almost on his soul that it was twofold. The prominence of the
professor, together with his startling announcement of the day
previous and the world-wide comment that it had aroused, elevated
the case to a national interest.

What was the Blind Spot? The world conjectured, and like the world
has been since beginning, it scoffed and derided. Some there were,
however, men well up in the latest discoveries of science, who did
not laugh. They counselled forbearance; they would wait for the
doctor and his lecture.

There was no lecture. In the teeth of our expectation came the
startling word that the doctor had disappeared. Apparently when on
the very verge of announcing his discovery he had been swallowed
by the very force that he had loosened. There was nothing in known
science outside of optics, that could in any way be blended with
the Blind Spot. There were but two solutions; either the professor
had been a victim of a clever rogue, or he had been overcome by
the rashness of his own wisdom. At any rate, it was known from
that minute on as "THE BLIND SPOT."