exchanged the usual formalities, then Father McGowan said: "Well?" Doctor Van Dorn shifted uneasily.  "It is difficult to explain," he said. "I don't know just how to put it, but I thought you, if any one, could help me." 

 "I shall do all in my power to help you, if I think you need help," answered Father McGowan. The Doctor picked up a paper knife. He toyed with it, then blurted out: "I feel sure that there must be some reason for it, and that he's merely doing it from some evil wish." 

 "Who? Doing what?" asked Father McGowan. 

 The Doctor looked silly and laughed uneasily.  "I'm not very coherent," he said. 

 "Oh, well," said Father McGowan, "we're both doctors in a way. We both meet that enough to understand it. Now take your time and tell me your story in your own way."  He pushed a box of cigars across the table.  "Want to smoke?" he asked with the move. The Doctor nodded and lit a cigar. 

 "It concerns a man named Madden," he said, "who, I have found, is one of your people. I have no proof, at least of the tangible sort, but I believe he is doing all he can to ruin me.... He is succeeding fairly well, too." 

 "Well, well," said Father McGowan.  "Now what's he doing?" 

 "It began," said the Doctor, "with my hospital, which you know is a private affair, and in which some of my fellow doctors, with me, do some experimental work. The most of my clientele consists of the rather more well-known people of this city, as you know." 

 Father McGowan nodded. The Doctor's voice was as usual, and he began to swell a bit, with the tale of his hospital and its clientele. 

 "I rarely take charity work," said the Doctor.  "All New York is after me...." Suddenly his face changed.  "Was after me," he corrected. He studied the end of his cigar. "I did take one small chap," he went on slowly, "a charity case. He interested me. The complications were most unusual; however, you would not understand about them, and they do not influence the tale. I took him in and gave him the best of care, even to giving him a hundred-dollar room and an especial nurse. (His case was most interesting.)  Well, as you know, the action of the muscles and organs is changed by anesthesia. I—ah,—I did but the slightest experimental work, keeping him well-fed, you know, and in this hundred-dollar-a-week room. The best of care, as I explained. He,—ah,—himself submitted to this 

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