Bagdad over the skyscrapers in these days of shattered folklore."

Howard Van Cleft returned with the famous surgeon, Professor
MacDonald. He was elderly, with the broad high forehead, dignity
of poise, and sharpness of glance which bespeaks the successful
scientist. His face, to-night, was chalky and the firm, full
mouth twitched with nervousness. He greeted Shirley abstractedly.
The criminologist's manner was that of friendly anxiety.

"You are here, sir, as a friend of the family?"

"Yes. Howard has told me of the terrible mystery of this case.
As an ex-newspaper man I imagine that my influence and
friendships may keep the unpleasant details from the press."

"That is good," sighed the doctor, with relief. "How soon will
you do it?"

"Now, using this telephone. No, for certain reasons, I had
better use an outside instrument. I will call up men I know on
each paper, as though this were a 'scoop,' so that knowing me,
they will be confident that I tell them the truth as a favor.
Such deceit is excusable under the circumstances. It may
eventually bring the murderer to justice."

Professor MacDonald winced at the word. He turned toward Van
Cleft, on sudden thought, remarking: "Howard your mother and
sister may need the comfort of your presence. I will chat with
your friend until the Coroner comes."