All the way back to the office he was loud in his praises and
thanked us most heartily, as he put on his hat and coat and shook
hands a cordial good-bye.

Now comes the strange part of my story. After Reinstrom had gone,
Dr. Holmes, the attending physician of the woman whom we had seen
anesthetized, missed his syringe and the bottle of scopolamine.

"Miss Sears," he asked rather testily, "what have you done with
the hypodermic and the scopolamine?"

"Nothing," she protested.

"You must have done something."

She repeated that she had not.

"Well, it is very strange then," he said, "I am positive I laid
the syringe and the bottle right here on this tray on the table."

Holmes, Miss Sears and Miss Stern all hunted, but it could not be
found. Others had to be procured.

I thought little of it at the time, but since then it has occurred
to me that it might interest you, Professor Kennedy, and I give it
to you for what it may be worth.

It was early the next morning that I awoke to find Kennedy already
up and gone from our apartment. I knew he must be at the
laboratory, and, gathering the mail, which the postman had just