by some strong-arm man who had set out to get him and had almost
succeeded in accomplishing his purpose of "getting him right," to
use the vernacular of the class?

We made the trip by railroad, passing the town where the report
had come to us before of the finding of the body of Rena Taylor.
There was, of course, no one at the station to meet us, and, after
wasting some time in learning the direction, we at last walked to
Dr. Mead's cottage, a quaint home, facing the state road that led
from Suffern up to the Park, and northward.

Dr. Mead, who had telephoned, admitted us himself. We found
Warrington swathed in bandages, and only half conscious. He had
been under the influence of some drug, but, before that, the
doctor told us, he had been unconscious and had only one or two
intervals in which he was sufficiently lucid to talk.

"How did it happen?" asked Garrick, almost as soon as we had
entered the doctor's little office.

"I had had a bad case up the road," replied the doctor slowly,
"and it had kept me out late. I was driving my car along at a
cautious pace homeward, some time near two o'clock, when I came to
a point in the road where there are hills on one side and the
river on the other. As I neared the curve, a rather sharp curve,
too, I remember the lights on my own car were shining on the white
fence that edged the river side of the road. I was keeping
carefully on my own side, which was toward the hill.

"As I was about to turn, I heard the loud purring of an engine