“Dr. Hansen?” Someone stepped beside us. “Dr. Hansen?” “Yes, sir.” “A message, sir.” The doctor made a gesture of impatience. “Bother!” he spoke. “Bother! A message. Nothing in the world would stop me! I cannot leave.” Nevertheless he stepped back into the light. “Just a minute, gentlemen.” He tore open the envelope. Then he looked up at the messenger and then at us. His face was startled--almost frightened. “Gentlemen,” he said, “I am sorry. Not a thing in the world would detain me but this. I would go with you, but I may not. My duty as a physician. I had hopes.” He came over to me and spoke softly. “I am going to send you one of the greatest specialists in the city in my stead. This young man should have attention. Have you the address?” “288 Chatterton Place,” I answered. “Very well. I am sorry, very much disappointed. However, it is my daughter, and I cannot do otherwise. Continue the brandy for a while--and this.” He slipped an envelope into my hand. “By that time Dr. Higgins will be with you.” “You think there is hope?” I asked. “There's always hope,” replied the doctor. I returned to my companions. They were walking slowly. It was work for poor Watson. He dragged on, leaning on Hobart's arm. But at last he gave up. “No,” he said, “I can't make it. I'm too far gone. I had thought--Oh, what a lapse it has been! I am eighty years of age; one year ago I was a boy. If only I had some more brandy. I have some at the house. We must make that. I must show you; there I can give you the details.” “Hail a cab,” I said. “Here's one now.” A few minutes later we were before the House of the Blind Spot. It was a two storey drab affair, much like a thousand others, old-fashioned, and might have been built in the early nineties. It had been outside of the fire limits of 1906, and so had survived the great disaster. Chatterton Place is really a short street running lengthwise along the summit of the hill. A flight of stone steps descended to the pavement. Watson straightened up with an effort. “This is the house,” he spoke. “I came here a year ago. I go away tonight. I had hoped to find it. I promised Bertha. I came alone. I had reasons to believe I had solved it. I found the Rhamda and the Nervina. I had iron will and courage--also strength. The Rhamda was never able to control me. My life is gone but not my will. Now I have left him another. Do not surrender, Harry. It is a gruesome task; but hold on to the end. Help me up the steps. There now. Just wait a minute till I fetch a stimulant.” He did not ring for a servant. That I noticed. Instead he groped about for a key, unlocked the door and stumbled into a room. He fumbled for a minute among some glasses. “Will you switch on a light?” he asked. Hobart struck a match; when he found it he pressed the switch.