“Do you really believe that—about this doctor, I mean?” “I’m sure of it. Long before I ever saw you I knew he was a scamp. That’s why I took a room here at the Windermere when I found that Stone was consorting with him.” “Is it possible? I don’t understand it. Isn’t he the one I told you about—the one whom young Floyd recommended to Jimmy?” “I take it for granted that he is. He has a reputation second to none in his line, and there’s no reason to suppose that your own friend was not sincere when he made the condition that Stone should visit Doctor Follansbee. If so, though, he has a great deal to learn about the scoundrelly head of St. Swithin’s Hospital.” “But in what way is Follansbee a scoundrel? I should think he would have altogether too much to lose by crime, no matter what his secret tendencies were. What can he hope to gain by using poor Jim’s irresponsible enmity to me? He is jeopardizing a great position.” “True, but he thinks he can get away with it,” remarked Nick. “They all do, you know—until they wake up. As for his anticipated reward, you may be sure it’s a very large one. Follansbee’s are always that, and in such a case as this, he must have named a huge price. Stone is in a position, of course, to pay a big sum, and his mental condition makes him an easy victim. That may be the whole explanation, but I have a feeling that it isn’t. Something tells me that Follansbee is after more than the fee he has named.” “What are you driving at? How could he profit in any other way by my death?” “That’s what I’d like to find out,” Nick told him; “and you ought to be able to help me, if any one can.” “In what way?” “Well, have you made a will?” “Yes, I attended to that soon after we sold the Condor.” “And who is the chief beneficiary named in it, may I ask?” “Jim, of course. He’s practically the sole beneficiary, for no other living person has ever been half so close to me as he.” “I shouldn’t wonder if that explained it,” the detective said thoughtfully. The bearded mining man looked startled. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” he said. “Tell me plainly what you have in your mind.” “Oh, I may be mistaken,” was the answer, “but it seems rather significant. As I’ve said, your partner’s condition makes him an easy mark. Does he by any chance know of the terms of your will?” “Certainly. I told him what I had done after it was drawn up.” “That’s a pity. I do not believe he has his eyes on the money. If I read his mental state aright, he’s only actuated by groundless, diseased hate and suspicion, and that so fills his distorted brain that it doesn’t leave any room for money considerations. It’s very possible, however, that Follansbee has pumped him, and learned the facts in regard to your will. If so, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit to find that the rascal was plotting in some way, either with or without Stone’s knowledge, to appropriate most, if not all, of your fortune.” “By Jove! I wonder if you’re right!”