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The Filterable Virus
by [?]

I was surprised to run into O’Hanlon himself in the train out to Norwood. The failure to get Dr. Loeb troubled him and he had reasoned that if Darius Moreton took the trouble to write a letter about his friend he might possibly know more of his whereabouts than he professed. We discussed the case nearly the whole journey, agreeing to separate just before we reached the station in order not to be seen together.

It took me longer to carry out Kennedy’s request than I had expected. I found Myra at home alone, very much excited.

“Someone called me up from New York this morning,” she said, “and asked whether father and Lionel were at home. I thought they were at the factory, but when I called there, the foreman told me they hadn’t been there. And Dr. Goode is out, too–hasn’t seen any of his patients today. Oh, Mr. Jameson, what does it all mean? Where have they gone?”

I was a poor one to comfort her, for I had no idea myself. Still, I did my best, and incidentally secured the brushes, though I must confess I had to commit a little second-story work to get into Dr. Goode’s.

It seemed heartless to leave the poor girl all alone, but I knew that Kennedy was waiting anxiously for me. I promised to make inquiries all over about her father, Lionel, and Dr. Goode, and, I think, the mere fact that someone showed an interest in her cheered her up, especially when I told her Kennedy was working hard on the case.

As I waited for the train that was to take me back to the city, the train from New York pulled in. Imagine my surprise when I saw Miss Golder step off nervously and hurry up the main street.

I watched her, debating what to do, whether to let Kennedy wait and follow her, or not.

“Someone, they don’t know who, bailed her out,” I heard a voice whisper in my ear.

I turned quickly. It was O’Hanlon. “She put up cash bail,” he added under his breath. “No one knows where she got it. I’m waiting until she turns that corner–then I’m going to shadow her. I can’t seem to find anyone in this town just now. Perhaps she knows where Loeb is.”

“If you get on the trail, will you wire me?” I asked. “Here’s my train now.”

O’Hanlon promised, and as I swung on the step I caught a last glimpse of him sauntering casually in the direction Miss Golder had taken.

I handed Kennedy the brushes I had obtained, but he gave me no opportunity to satisfy my curiosity. Instead, he started me out again to keep in touch with the progress made in the cases of the quacks, particularly the search for Dr. Loeb, which seemed to interest him quite as much as the bailing out of Miss Golder.

It was after dinner and I was preparing to follow the cases on into the night court, if necessary, when one of O’Hanlon’s assistants hurried up to me.

“We’ve just had a wire from Mr. O’Hanlon,” he cried excitedly, handing me a telegram.

I read:

“Loeb captured Norwood. Darius Moreton hiding
him in vacant house outside town. Advise Kennedy.”

I dashed for the nearest telephone and called up Craig.

“Fine, Walter,” he shouted back. “I am ready. Meet me at the station and wire O’Hanlon to wait there for us.”

We made the journey to Norwood as impatiently as any two passengers on the accommodation at that hour of night, Craig carrying his evidence in the case in a little leather hand satchel.

Already, out at the old house, O’Hanlon had gathered the Moreton family, Dr. Goode, who had turned up with the rest, Dr. Loeb, and Miss Golder. Myra Moreton was even more agitated than she had been when I left her during the afternoon. In fact the secrecy maintained by both her family and Dr. Goode, to say nothing of the presence of Dr. Loeb in the house under arrest, had all but broken her down. She greeted Kennedy almost as though he had been a life-long friend.