Dr. Bolton Burr, who was at the head of the institution, met us in
the plainly furnished reception-room which also served as his
office. Through a window we could see some of the patients walking
or sitting about on a small stretch of scraggly grass between the
house and the wall.

Doctor Burr was a tall and commanding-looking man with a Vandyke
beard, and one would instinctively have picked him out anywhere as
a physician.

"I believe you have a patient here--Mrs. Roger Cranston," began
Kennedy, after the usual formalities. Doctor Burr eyed us askance.
"I've been asked by Mr. Cranston to make an examination of his
wife," pursued Craig, presenting the card which he had obtained
from Roger Cranston.

"H'm!" mused Doctor Burr, looking quickly from the card to Kennedy
with a searching glance.

"I wish you would tell me something of the case before I see her,"
went on Kennedy, with absolute assurance.

"Well," temporized Doctor Burr, twirling the card, "Mrs. Cranston
came to me after the death of her child. She was in a terrible
state. But we are slowly building up her shattered nerves by
plain, simple living and a tonic."

"Was she committed by her husband?" queried Kennedy, unexpectedly.

Whether or not Doctor Burr felt suspicious of us I could not tell.