more lost motion or hesitancy than a well-oiled machine.
No assistant, however capable, could keep up with his demands, let alone anticipate his wishes, and the doctor's biting and sarcastic words made the careless or laggard assistant and nurse wish they were somewhere else.
One thing peculiarly noticeable about the doctor, was the head lamp that he always wore while working. A head lamp is needed to illuminate the deeper recesses of an operative wound, but it is scarcely necessary to wear in the operating room all the time.
This head lamp was of a distinctive pattern, and current was supplied to it by a small battery that the doctor carried in his hip pocket.
As soon as Dr. Carter arrived at the hospital in the morning, he went to the dressing-room and donned a gown, and affixed the head lamp. Then he was ready to see whatever patients were referred to him.
With his brilliant shining eyes and his nervous intense manner he was a unique figure, and caused a great deal of comment among his associates. There was a suspicion that Dr. Carter used drugs, but the cleanliness and poise of the man's life forbade such a belief.
His nearest—one might say his only acquaintance—was Dr. James Bryan. To Bryan the surgeon would occasionally unbend, and there were times when his conversation even approached cordiality. Bryan on one or two occasions had tried to make some friendly advances. Once he asked Dr. Carter to lunch with him. Carter's refusal was courteous, but final, and Bryan did not try again.
The Chief of Detectives Has an Interview with Dr. Bryan
The loud insistent ringing of Dr. Bryan's telephone awoke him early one morning. It was the chief of detectives calling. Dr. Bryan had at times helped out the police department, and his keen perception and active brain had more than once put them on the right track in some mysterious case. The chief of detectives often said that Bryan had missed his calling and should have been a detective instead of a surgeon.
During the war Bryan had in fact served in the intelligence department of the army and had received the warm commendations of his superiors for his capable work.
When Bryan walked into the chief's office he was met by a worried and distraught officer.
"Doctor, I am sure glad you came. We are in a mess and you are probably the only man who can help us out."
"Flattering," replied Bryan. "You folks give me credit for capabilities I don't possess."
"Do you suppose, Doctor, that we called you here just to pass the time of day? We know all about your capabilities, and we surely need your help."
"Well, tell me your troubles," the doctor grinned, "and I'll see what I can do."
"It is more serious than you think," the detective gravely replied. "This is a case of murder, and a peculiarly baffling one, too."
"Ah! a murder," the doctor replied. "What are the features that make this case so baffling?" He was all interest now, as with glowing eyes and intent expression, he questioned the chief.
"Well, to begin with, Doctor, we can only find one mark of violence on his body. The coroner has examined the body carefully and can give no cause of death. Don’t you think it would be well if you came to look the body over?"
"Surely, surely," the doctor replied. "Will you ride in my car, chief?" They hastened out to the waiting car and rapidly drove to the morgue.
"Who is the man?" Bryan asked, after they were ushered into the room and stood beside the murdered victim.
The chief referred to his notebook. "We have the name as Ivan Kronsky. This name was found on letters in his pockets and the initials I. K. are marked on his linen. We were called last night by the janitor of the Earling Apartments where he roomed."
Kronsky had told the janitor to call him at six o'clock because he had to catch a train. The janitor receiving no answer when he rang, thought that he had not been awakened by the 'phone and went up to his room. The door was ajar, and he entered. He found the body sprawled on the floor of the bed room. He called the police at once.
"I went up to the Earling to look things over," the chief continued. "I tell you, doctor, there was no clue or trace of the murderer in that room. The only mark we can find is this bruise on the wrist."
The detective pointed to a ringlike bruise encircling the dead man's wrist. "Ah!" said the doctor, as he examined the arm, "both bones broken by direct violence. Now, how could a man come by a circular bruise like that? It looks as if his wrist had been squeezed in a vise. Queer . . . . . . . . very queer. Let’s turn the body over and look at his back."
On turning the body over, the head fell back in a strange manner that at once attracted the doctor's attention. "See here, Chief," he exclaimed excitedly, as he pointed out a dark bruised area, the size of a half dollar, at the hair-line on the back of the neck, "the neck is broken. See how it rolls around when I move the head."
"What on earth could break a man's neck and not leave any mark bigger than that, doctor?"
"That's the puzzle, Chief. It looks as if some giant had pressed his thumb down there, but what kind of a being could have sufficient strength to break the neck of a burly man with the pressure of a thumb?" The doctor turned the body back on the table and asked to see what had been found in the man's clothing.
A little heap of articles were turned over to him. They were the usual things found in men's pockets. A roll of bills, a knife, and a few keys made up the collection.
"I found this on the floor," the detective interjected, handing the doctor a small flat-headed screw. "Looks as though it might be out of a watch."
"Yes," said the doctor absent-mindedly. Then with sudden interest, "Where did you say you found it?"
"On the floor near the body. Can you attach any significance to that?"
"I don't know," the doctor mused. "Let me keep it. It may help us." He carefully placed the
