Walter, will you find Fletcher?"
I found the professor pacing up and down the gravel walk
impatiently.
"Fletcher," said Kennedy, "a night's rest is all Miss Bond really
needs. It is simply a case of overwrought nerves, and it will
pass off of itself. Still, I would advise a change of scene as
soon as possible. Good afternoon, Miss Bond, and my best wishes
for your health."
"Good afternoon, Dr. Kennedy. Good afternoon, Dr. Jameson."
I for one was glad to make my escape.
A half-hour later, Kennedy, with well-simulated excitement, was
racing me in the car up to the Greenes' again. We literally burst
unannounced into the tete-a-tete on the porch.
"Fletcher, Fletcher," cried Kennedy, "look what Walter and I have
just discovered in a tin strong-box poked off in the back of your
uncle's desk!"
Fletcher seized the will and by the dim light that shone through
from the hall read it hastily. "Thank God," he cried; "the school
is provided for as I thought."
"Isn't it glorious!" murmured Helen.
True to my instinct I muttered, "Another good newspaper yarn
killed."
III. The Bacteriological Detective
Kennedy was deeply immersed in writing a lecture on the chemical
compositions of various bacterial toxins and antitoxins, a thing
which was as unfamiliar to me as Kamchatka, but as familiar to
Kennedy as Broadway and Forty-second Street.
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