Burn, Witch, Burn!

"Undoubtedly there are some who will have to be notified of his condition," I replied. "I'll leave that all to

you. All I know is that he was on his way to me. He had a heart attack in the car. You brought him to

me. I am now treating him-for heart attack. If he should die, McCann-well, that will be another matter."

"I'll do the notifying," he answered. "There's only a couple that you'll have to see. Then I'm going down to

that doll joint an' get the truth outa that hag."

His eyes were slits, his mouth a slit, too.

"No," I said, firmly. "Not yet. Put a watch on the place. If the woman goes out, discover where she goes.

Watch the girl as closely. If it appears as though either of them or both of them are moving away-running

off-let them. But follow them. I don't want them molested or even alarmed until Ricori can tell what

happened there."

"All right," he said, but reluctantly.

"Your doll story," I reminded him, sardonically, "would not be so convincing to the police as to my

somewhat credulous mind. Take no chance of them being injected into the matter. As long as Ricori is

alive, there is no need of them being so injected."

I took him aside.

"Can you trust the chauffeur to do no talking?"

"Paul's all right," he said.

"Well, for both your sakes, he would better be," I warned.

They took their departure. I went up to Ricori's room. His heart was stronger, his respiration weak but

encouraging. His temperature, although still dangerously subnormal, had improved. If, as I had told

McCann, there was no infection, and if there had been no poison nor drug upon the weapon with which

he had been stabbed, Ricori should live.

Later that night two thoroughly polite gentlemen called upon me, heard my explanation of Ricori's

condition, asked if they might see him, did see him, and departed. They assured me that "win or lose" I

need have no fear about my fees, nor have any hesitancy in bringing in the most expensive consultants. In

exchange, I assured them that I believed Ricori had an excellent chance to recover. They asked me to

allow no one to see him except themselves, and McCann. They thought it might save me trouble to have

a couple of men whom they would send to me, to sit at the door of the room-outside, of course, in the

hall. I answered that I would be delighted.

In an exceedingly short time two quietly watchful men were on guard at Ricori's door, just as they had

been over Peters'.

In my dreams that night dolls danced around me, pursued me, threatened me. My sleep was not pleasant.

CHAPTER VI: STRANGE EXPERIENCE OF OFFICER SHEVLIN

Morning brought a marked improvement in Ricori's condition. The deep coma was unchanged, but his

temperature was nearly normal; respiration and heart action quite satisfactory. Braile and I divided duties

so that one of us could be constantly within call of the nurses. The guards were relieved after breakfast

by two others. One of my quiet visitors of the night before made his appearance, looked at Ricori and

received with unfeigned gratification my reassuring reports.

After I had gone to bed the obvious idea had occurred to me that Ricori might have made some

memorandum concerning his quest; I had felt reluctance about going through his pockets, however. Now

seemed to be the opportunity to ascertain whether he had or had not. I suggested to my visitor that he

might wish to examine any papers Ricori had been carrying, adding that we had been interested together

in a certain matter, that he had been on his way to discuss this with me when he had undergone his

seizure; and that he might have carried some notes of interest to me. My visitor agreed; I sent for Ricori's

overcoat and suit and we went through them. There were a few papers, but nothing relating to our

investigation.

In the breast pocket of his overcoat, however, was a curious object-a piece of thin cord about eight

inches long in which had been tied nine knots, spaced at irregular intervals. They were curious knots too,

not quite like any I could recollect having observed. I studied the cord with an unaccountable but distinct

feeling of uneasiness. I glanced at my visitor and saw a puzzled look in his eyes. And then I remembered

Ricori's superstition, and reflected that the knotted cord was probably a talisman or charm of some sort.

I put it back in the pocket.

When again alone, I took it out and examined it more minutely. The cord was of human hair, tightly

braided-the hair a peculiarly pale ash and unquestionably a woman's. Each knot, I now saw, was tied

differently. Their structure was complex. The difference between them, and their irregular spacing, gave a

vague impression of forming a word or sentence. And, studying the knots, I had the same sensation of

standing before a blank door, vitally important for me to open, that I had felt while watching Peters die.

Obeying some obscure impulse, I did not return the cord to the pocket but threw it into the drawer with

the doll which Nurse Robbins had brought me.