It was with deliberate intention that he said to the hotel clerk, after he had registered: "How far is it to Dr. Underwood's house?"

The clerk looked up with the sudden awakening of curiosity that Burton had expected, then glanced at the registered name.

"You want his office?"

"No. His home."

"It's out on Rowan street, not very far from here. Know the doctor?"

"No. I'm a stranger here. Is he a regular physician?"

"Oh, yes."

"In practice?"

"When he gets any."

"Is there anything peculiar about him?"

The clerk permitted himself a languid smile. "There is nothing about him that isn't peculiar. Have you seen the morning paper?"

"Not any of your local papers."

"I'll find one for you. Did you want lunch?"

"Yes." Burton gave his order and went to the room assigned to him, where he made himself as presentable as possible for his proposed call on Miss Underwood.

When he returned to the dining-room he found a newspaper by his plate, folded so as to bring out the headline:

 

"DR. UNDERWOOD DENIES."

 

Under this appeared the following card:

 

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