Flynn’s Weekly Detective Fiction. Vol. 27, No. 2, September 24, 1927

The doctor took his knife from the antiseptic solution in which Dick had placed it. The small blade flashed, as the drops of water ran over its pure surface.

Next moment, Dr. Hailey had opened one of Lord Templewood’s veins.

The effect on the patient was wonderful beyond anything which Dick had ever seen before. The dusky color passed from the old man’s features, and was replaced by a generous glow. The madness faded from his eyes. His expression grew gentle. He sighed deeply and then closed his eyes. He seemed to be falling into a deep, natural slumber.

The doctor bound up the vein and rose from his seat on the bed. His face was very grave. He signed to Dick to come beside him, and pointed to a tiny red mark on the patient’s upper arm, just below the shoulder.

“Look at that.”

The young man shook his head.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The puncture of a hypodermic needle. I thought that woman was lying when she told me she had given him nothing. She chose this site, high up on the arm, so that it might pass unnoticed.”

Dick gazed at the tiny puncture mark with horrified eyes. He turned to the doctor:

“So that is the explanation?”

He broke off, suppressing at the same time an exclamation of amazement. He pointed to the carpet.

Lying just below Lord Templewood’s pillow, from beneath which it had evidently fallen during the struggle, was a large packet of Treasury notes.

Chapter XXII The Watcher by the Door

Dr. Hailey picked up the notes and examined them carefully. They were not new. It was evident that they had not come direct from a bank. He moved away from the bed, on which his patient now slept soundly. He asked:

“Does he always keep his money under his pillow in that fashion?”

“I was not aware that he did.” Dick hesitated a moment, and then added: “I don’t even know where this money came from. It certainly has not passed through my hands.”

Dr. Hailey made a rough count of the notes.

“There must be nearly eight hundred pounds,” he announced.

He returned to the bed and pushed the packet back into its former resting place. Then he rejoined his companion.

“You had better go to bed. He is not likely to give any more trouble. Curious, isn’t it, that blood-letting should have been so completely abandoned by my profession? In a case of this sort it acts invariably, in my experience, like a charm.”

Dick went away. Dr. Hailey sat down in an armchair and tried to concentrate his thoughts. Why should the announcement of Sacha’s engagement have exercised so profound an effect on her uncle? And who was this Barrington Bryan, to whom she was engaged? Why, again, should Lord Templewood go to sleep with wads of money under his pillow?

Could it be that it was this money which Ninon Darelli hoped to steal when its owner was taken away to an asylum? But no, that was absurd. Had she wished, she could have stolen the money any time while her wretched victim was under the influence of her drugs.

His mind began to wander. He closed his eyes. An immense drowsiness stole over all his senses.

He awoke with a start, and instantly jumped to his feet. He turned to the bed.

It was empty.

He sprang to it and lifted the pillow, which bore, still, the indent of Lord Templewood’s head. The packet of notes was no longer under the pillow.

He hurried to the door of the room. It was standing ajar. He entered the corridor and moved softly along it to the gallery above the great hall. He stopped here and listened. A faint sound of footsteps came to him from the floor above. He strained his senses. The footsteps were almost certainly those of a woman.

They began to descend the stairs. He drew back into the deep shadow of the corridor from which he had just emerged. The steps drew nearer. Was she coming in his direction? He drew back yet another pace.

And then, suddenly, the steps ceased. A light tap on wooden panels sounded across the darkness. He heard the faint turning of a door handle and then the closing of the door.

He waited for a moment or two before venturing to leave his sanctuary. A new sound of footsteps came to him, heavy footsteps this time, descending step by step from the floor above. He caught his breath and crept nearer to the open gallery. The steps lingered interminably. At last, however, they reached the landing.

Dr. Hailey’s mind began to work quickly. He knew that Sacha Malone’s bedroom was on the top floor, and that Dick Lovelace also had a room on that floor. Ninon Darelli, on the other hand.

He caught his breath. The sound of women’s voices had reached him, unmistakably, across the space of the gallery. He moved forward again, scarcely daring to breathe lest he should betray his presence to the other silent watcher by the bedroom door.

Suddenly, a narrow beam of light was thrust out into the darkness, proclaiming that the door had not been properly shut, and had swung slightly ajar. A figure appeared in the beam.

“Dick Lovelace!”