He uncorked the bottle, and we tasted the stuff. It was unpleasant
and nauseous. "I don't see why it wasn't used in the form of
pills. The liquid form of a few drops on gum arabic is hopelessly
antiquated."

The elevator door opened with a clang, and a well-built, athletic
looking man of middle age with an acquired youngish look about his
clothes and clean-shaven face stepped out. His face was pale, and
his hand shook with emotion that showed that something had
unstrung his usually cast-iron nerves. I recognised Burke Collins
at once.

In spite of his nervousness he strode forward with the air of a
man accustomed to being obeyed, to having everything done for him
merely because he, Burke Collins, could afford to pay for it and
it was his right. He seemed to know whom he was seeking, for he
immediately singled out O'Connor.

"This is terrible, terrible," he whispered hoarsely. "No, no, no,
I don't want to see her. I can't, not yet. You know I thought the
world of that poor little girl. Only," and here the innate
selfishness of the man cropped out, "only I called to ask you that
nothing of my connection with her be given out. You understand?
Spare nothing to get at the truth. Employ the best men you have.
Get outside help if necessary. I'll pay for anything, anything.
Perhaps I can use some influence for you some day, too. But, you
understand--the scandal, you know. Not a word to the newspapers."

At another time I feel sure that O'Connor would have succumbed.