"I only hope it was--in the would-be murderer," rejoined Dollar gravely. "But he had a lot of method; he even did his bit of filing--a burglar couldn't have done it better--in the domino Jack Laverick had just taken off!" "How do you know he had taken it off? How do you know the whole job wasn't one of Jack's drunken tricks?" "What whole job?" "The one you're talking about--the alleged tampering with his toboggan," replied Scarth, impatiently. "Oh! I only thought you meant something more." Dollar made a pause. "Don't you feel it rather hot in here, Scarth?" "Do you know, I do!" confessed the visitor, as though it were Dollar's house and breeding had forbidden him to volunteer the remark. "It's the heat of this stove, with the window shut. Thanks so much, doctor!" And he wiped his strong, brown, beautifully shaven face; it was one of those that require shaving more than once a day, yet it was always glossy from the razor; and he burnished it afresh with a silk handkerchief that would have passed through a packing-needle's eye. "And what are you really doing about this--monster?" he resumed, as who should accept the monster's existence for the sake of argument. "Nothing, Scarth." "Nothing? You intend to do nothing at all?" Scarth had started, for the first time; but he started to his feet, while he was about it, as though in overpowering disgust. "Not if he keeps out of England," replied the crime doctor, who had also risen. "I wonder if he's sane enough for that?" Their four eyes met in a protracted scrutiny, without a flicker on either side. "What I am wondering," said Scarth deliberately, "is whether this Frankenstein effort of yours exists outside your own imagination, Doctor Dollar." "Oh! he exists all right," declared the doctor. "But I am charitable enough to suppose him mad--in spite of his method _and_ his motive." "Did he tell you what that was?" asked Scarth with a sneer. "No; but Jack did. He seems to have been in the man's power--under his influence--to an extraordinary degree. He had even left him a wicked sum in a will made since he came of age. I needn't tell you that he has now made another, revoking----" "No, you need not!" cried Mostyn Scarth, turning livid at the last moment. "I've heard about enough of your mares' nests and mythical monsters. I wish you good morning, and a more credulous audience next time." "That I can count upon," returned the doctor at the door. "There's no saying what they won't believe--at Scotland Yard!" VI ONE POSSESSED