I had seen Spencer's infatuation with his attractive librarian.
The janitor of the studio-building was positive that a woman
answering her description had been a visitor at the studio. Would
she be used to get at the millionaire and his treasures? Was she
herself part of the plot to victimise, perhaps kill, him? The
woman had been much of an enigma to me at first. She was more so
now. It was barely possible that she, too, was an absintheur, who
had shaken off the curse for a time only to relapse into it again.

If there were any thoughts like these passing through Kennedy's
mind he did not show it, at least not in the shape of hesitating
in the course he had evidently mapped out to follow. He said
little, but hurried off from the studio in a cab up-town again to
the laboratory. A few minutes later we were speeding down to the
museum.

There was not much time for Craig to work if he hoped to be ready
for anything that might happen that night. He began by winding
coil after coil of copper wire about the storeroom in the basement
of the museum. It was not a very difficult matter to conceal it,
so crowded was the room, or to lead the ends out through a window
at the opposite side from that where the window had been broken
open.

Up-stairs in the art-gallery he next installed several boxes such
as those which I had seen him experimenting with during his tests
of selenium on the afternoon when Mr. Spencer had first called on
us. They were camera-like boxes, about ten inches long, three
inches or so wide, and four inches deep.