“It’s the girl,” he told himself. “Poor chap! She’s got him, whoever she is. He’ll never see a woman in the distance again without thinking it’s she; nor he’ll never see another sun arise without thinking that it’s going to witness his meeting with her. That is, not for a while. It’s comforting to think that such things don’t last long.” He had reached this stage in his reflection when a boy approached. “Mr. Kenyon?” inquired he. “Yes,” replied Webster. “Here, wake up, old chap; there’s a message for you.” “From a man who just left in an automobile,” the boy informed Kenyon, as he handed him the message. “He said there was no answer.” Kenyon tore open the envelope. The note was written upon a sheet of hotel stationery, and contained but two lines of writing. A glance took this in, and with a laugh he tossed it over to Webster. The message read: “Your progress is wonderful! But don’t forget that boldness can be carried too far.” And underneath this was the signature: “Farbush.” VII THE BELLEVUE HOSPITAL PUZZLE “Do you know, old chap, there are many features in this case that I do not understand.” --_A Frequent Remark of Garry Webster._ “MR. FARBUSH,” remarked Garry Webster, speculatively, “is more than likely the gentleman with the half-bald head and the vulture eyes. But just where does he enter in this thing, I wonder?” “There is no telling,” answered Kenyon. “It is not well to introduce all one’s characters in the first act, as every practical dramatist knows. Farbush has been held in reserve for the opening of act second, apparently; which reservation shows the hand of a craftsman of more or less skill.” There was something in the speaker’s voice that caught Webster’s attention, and he gave him a quick, inquiring glance. It seemed to hold a certain resolution that was not altogether clear. “If the appearance of Mr. Farbush has any connection with your adventure of last night, it is more like the climax of an old, rather than the opening of a new, act,” said Garry, slowly. “Where is your dramatist going to get his material to go on with his work? Surely not from the actions of a man eating his dinner.” “I do not intend to continue eating indefinitely,” smiled Kenyon. He looked at his watch and continued: “An hour from now will find me in Selden’s Square and ringing the bell at 98.” “Oh,” said Webster, “I see. You intend to return the check.” “Not only that, but I intend to put a stop to the whole matter. Why, the thing has grown absurd. I’m not accustomed to this sort of dealing; and the quicker it’s over and done the more comfortable I shall feel.” When they had finished, Webster said: “A cab will take us there in less than a half hour.” “Us?” repeated Kenyon. “_Us._ Why, to be sure. You don’t suppose I intend to let you go alone, do you? Well, hardly! Another thing. Come up to my rooms for a moment before we start.”