II

As the car rushed on, Carlson sat still with his captors in a kind of stupefied silence. Only that morning he had been wishing that his life was more eventful, less commonplace. Well, here was adventure with a vengeance.

He was only twenty-seven and he had been two years in the city. The first year and a half had been slow and discouraging, as often happens with young doctors. But in the last six months patients had begun to come, in steadily increasing numbers, until now he had about all he could handle. He was five-feet-eleven, well-built and athletic. He had clear hazel eyes with a very direct look, and thick and wavy brown hair, which was much admired by his women patients.[10] All this, with good and strong features and a pleasant expression, made an ensemble which expressed health, confidence and efficiency.

And now what was he in for? It was hardly reassuring, especially when blindfolded, to know that at least one gun was probably pointed at him all the time, and that any involuntary move of his might bring a bullet into his brain.

Yet, for all that, he did not feel exactly fear; it was more like strained interest, a burning curiosity to know where the adventure was to lead.

For a long time—or so it seemed—the car sped on what might have been an isolated suburban road. Occasionally another car passed, going in the opposite direction, but otherwise there were no other sounds than the rolling of the limousine.

At last they slowed down and turned off to the right, and from then on, for perhaps five minutes, the car went slowly over rough ground, turning so frequently that Carlson lost all idea of direction.

Presently they were on a good road again, and once more traveled very fast. More and more automobiles passed them, and they went slower and slower, until Carlson knew they were in a town again. Once they had to stop for a minute or two, as it seemed, at a crossing, and he distinctly heard a policeman’s voice allowing them to make a turn to the left on a side street. After that interruption they moved for the most part rapidly for another five minutes or so, making several turns and passing many machines, until they slowed down and came to a full stop.

Carlson could hear people passing to and fro on the sidewalk, talking and laughing. He sat still, careful not to make any movement that might alarm his captors, feeling that their weapons were leveled at him.

When at last the voices and footsteps had become almost inaudible, the voice spoke again.

“Now, Doc—no fooling.”

He put his own slouch hat on Carlson’s head and drew the brim far down over his face. Then he opened the door toward the curb stone and got out.

“Come along, Doc, give me your hand.”

Carlson took the hand and got out of the car. The man put his hand within his arm and drew him across the sidewalk. Carlson heard the other man open an iron gate, and close it again after they had passed through. A few steps more, and another stop.

He heard a key turning in a lock, and a door open, and he was led into a warm room. The door clicked after them. A woman’s harsh voice impatiently exclaimed:

“I thought you’d never come.”

“Shut up!” said Carlson’s guide. “Here’s the Doctor. Take him upstairs. Step lively, will you! Keep right hold of my arm, Doc.”

Carlson counted three flights of stairs, then he heard a key turned just beyond the head of the stairway, and he was led into a room.

“Shut the door!”

It was done.

“Now take off the blinder!”

Carlson’s eyes blinked as the muffler was removed. But as soon as his eyes got accustomed to the light, he realized that the room was only dimly lighted.

Two men and one woman, all masked, stood nearby. One of the men had come with him in the car. The other was a huge man, a giant. The woman was short and rather scrawny-looking, to judge from her hands and neck.

“Now, Doc, a word with you alone,” said one of the men. “Come here!”

He stepped into a small dressing room and Carlson followed.

[11]

“Shut the door!”

Carlson obeyed.

“Now, here’s the proposition. We’ve got a sick woman on our hands—damned sick! But she’s got in trouble with the law and the police are after her. Get me?”

“Yes. Go on.”

“Well, that’s why she dasn’t go to a hospital, and that’s why we had to get you. Get me?”

“Go on.”

“Very good! Now your job is just this: Look at her and find out what in Hell is the matter with her, and write out a prescription—No! That won’t do, either. Somebody might get on to it. You’ve got your medicines with you, have you?”

“I have some medicines in my bag.”

“Good! You’ll give me the dope she needs, and then get out and away from here as fast as you can and keep your mouth shut. You’ll be taken home safe, and you’ll get your money all right. Do you get me?”

“I understand.”

“Good! Just one other thing. You can’t see her face, and there can’t be any talking, not one word. You understand?”

Carlson felt that the time had come for him to say something, and he said it:

“You damned fool! What kind of an examination do you think a doctor can make if he can’t see his patient or hear her talk? Have you never been to a doctor yourself?”

The man hesitated, fingering his automatic.

“Open that door!” he commanded, after a pause. Carlson did as he was told.

“Teresa!”

She appeared so quickly that Carlson was sure that she had been listening behind the door.

“The doctor will have to ask her a few questions, and she will have to answer. Go and tell her. And tell her from me—that if she says anything she doesn’t have to say—T. N. T. for her! Do you get me?”

“All right, Boss, I’ll tell her.”

She spoke with a cruel chuckle that all but made Carlson shudder. While he waited for further orders from his captor, he tried to get a line on the mystery he was involved in. But nothing came to him. Was the sick woman he was about to visit a fugitive or a captive? Probably the latter; and if so, why?

He furtively inspected the dressing-room and its contents. It was richly and beautifully furnished—like the large bedroom it adjoined, as far as his very brief glance had discovered. It was on a corner and had two windows, with curtains tightly drawn. At the end, farthest from the door of entrance, was another door, standing half open and showing a glimpse of a lavatory and bathtub. Nothing hopeful thus far.

Then he noticed a small black box on the wall nearest the corner, with a green cord leading from it and disappearing behind a screen. Not until his anxious glance had shifted elsewhere did Carlson realize the possible significance of that green cord. Surely, what else could it mean but a telephone behind that screen! A telephone.

The masked woman suddenly appeared at the door.

“She’s ready for the doctor,” she snapped out viciously.

Carlson looked at his masked companion for orders.

“Go with her,” he said. “And don’t ask her no questions that are none of your damned business! If you do, you’ll go out of this house in two or three suit cases! Get me?”

Carlson did not answer, and followed the woman to a darkened bedside. The man also followed, and stood at the foot of the bed.

[12]