"As you please," said Valeska. "Only be sure that you have the most powerful defender in New York. Astro has never failed yet."
She returned to the studio, to find Astro already absorbed in a medical book. He had taken down a bound volume of The Lancet, and pointed to it. "Look that over carefully and see if you can find that article on the Pathology of Fatigue. I can't recall what year it came out; but it was the report of the experiments of an Austrian, I think."
She looked at him in surprise. "You have a theory already?"
"No, not quite; but there is a disturbance in my memory,—there's something I can't quite place, or account for; if I don't try too hard, it will float up unconsciously. That's why I want you to look it up. But our line of investigation is plain."
"The barber?"
"Or the manicure. I didn't dare ask about that. I don't want Tulliver to suspect. Of course she'll tell him everything; I can see that, I expected it. But I must get to that particular barber shop to-day and begin to watch."
"Is it poison, then?"
"Undoubtedly poison; but whether physical or moral I don't yet know."
"But you seemed to be so sure of his honesty."
"I knew she would tell him everything. It was the only way. There is always the chance of corruption. Dishonesty is as much a disease as cholera. One can become infected by it as well as by a germ. I said it was my business to know human nature; but no one can know it, except to be sure that it's liable to all
