as he heard the warden's steps returning, he reached over, very grimly possessed himself of a black bishop and a black pawn and slipped them into his pocket. He was profoundly engrossed in seeing that the white pieces were exactly in the middle of the squares when the warden spoke from the doorway.
"Kreelmar!"
There was a hollowness, a dull weariness in the other's voice that caught the little doctor's ear instantly. He raised his eyes from the chessboard—and the next moment had jumped to his feet, sending the pieces of flying in all directions over the floor.
"Eh? What! What!" he spluttered out. "Good God, Rand, what's the matter?"
The warden was standing in the doorway, his face set and white, a sheet of notepaper in his hand.
"Kreelmar—Janet's gone!" he said numbly.
"Gone!" gasped Kreelmar. "Gone! Gone! Gone where? What do you mean? Gone where?"
"I don't know," the warden answered hoarsely. He came across the room toward the doctor. "I found this upstairs on the dresser. Read it, Kreelmar—read it."
Doctor Kreelmar took the paper and read it hurriedly, mumbling parts of the hastily scrawled sentences aloud.
"'… Gone away … for a long time … please, please do not try to find me … there was no other way …'"
Doctor Kreelmar dropped the note upon the table, took customary refuge in his handkerchief and mopped nervously at his face.
"What's it mean, eh? What's it mean?" he inquired
