Part 33 (1/2)

Craig read quickly and I followed him, fascinated by the letter from its very opening paragraph.

”Dear Madam,” it began. ”Having received my diploma as doctor of medicine and bacteriology at Heidelberg in 1909, I came to the United States to study a most serious disease which is prevalent in several of the western mountain states.”

So far, I reflected, it looked like an ordinary appeal for aid. The next words, however, were queer: ”I have four hundred persons of wealth on my list. Your name was--”

Kennedy turned the page. On the next leaf of the letter sheet was pasted a strip of gelatine. The first page had adhered slightly to the gelatine.

”Chosen by fate,” went on the sentence ominously.

”By opening this letter,” I read, ”you have liberated millions of the virulent bacteria of this disease. Without a doubt you are infected by this time, for no human body is impervious to them, and up to the present only one in one hundred has fully recovered after going through all its stages.”

I gasped. The gelatine had evidently been arranged so that when the two sheets were pulled apart, the germs would be thrown into the air about the person opening the letter. It was a very ingenious device.

The letter continued, ”I am happy to say, however, that I have a prophylactic which will destroy any number of these germs if used up to the ninth day. It is necessary only that you should place five thousand dollars in an envelope and leave it for me to be called for at the desk of the Prince Henry Hotel. When the messenger delivers the money to me, the prophylactic will be sent immediately.

”First of all, take a match and burn this letter to avoid spreading the disease. Then change your clothes and burn the old ones. Enclosed you will find in a germ-proof envelope an exact copy of this letter. The room should then be thoroughly fumigated. Do not come into close contact with anyone near and dear to you until you have used the prophylactic. Tell no one. In case you do, the prophylactic will not be sent under any circ.u.mstances. Very truly yours, DR. HANS HOPF.”

”Blackmail!” exclaimed Kennedy, looking intently again at the gelatine on the second page, as I involuntarily backed away and held my breath.

”Yes, I know,” responded Mrs. Blake anxiously, ”but is it true?”

There could be no doubt from the tone of her voice that she more than half believed that it was true.

”I cannot say--yet,” replied Craig, still cautiously scanning the apparently innocent piece of gelatine on the original letter which Mrs.

Blake had not destroyed. ”I shall have to keep it and examine it.”

On the gelatine I could see a dark ma.s.s which evidently was supposed to contain the germs.

”I opened the letter here in this room,” she went on. ”At first I thought nothing of it. But this morning, when Buster, my prize Pekinese, who had been with me, sitting on my lap at the time, and closer to the letter even than I was, when Buster was taken suddenly ill, I--well, I began to worry.”

She finished with a little nervous laugh, as people will to hide their real feelings.

”I should like to see the dog,” remarked Kennedy simply.

”Miss Sears,” asked her mistress, ”will you get Buster, please?”

The nurse left the room. No longer was there the laughing look on her face. This was serious business.

A few minutes later she reappeared, carrying gingerly a small dog basket. Mrs. Blake lifted the lid. Inside was a beautiful little ”Peke,” and it was easy to see that Buster was indeed ill.

”Who is your doctor?” asked Craig, considering.

”Dr. Rae Wilson, a very well-known woman physician.”

Kennedy nodded recognition of the name. ”What does she say?” he asked, observing the dog narrowly.

”We haven't told anyone, outside, of it yet,” replied Mrs. Blake. ”In fact until Buster fell sick, I thought it was a hoax.”

”You haven't told anyone?”