o run faster. A
moment of this endeavor only showed me that my pursuer was gaining. I
therefore stopped short, stepped into the heavy shadow of an evergreen,
and waited for my new friend. Though it was dark I could see him as he
came, and I assure you that it surprised me when I noted that the man
was well-dressed and bore the appearance of respectability.

Just as he reached the spot in front of me, I saw him hesitate as if he
had discovered that I was no longer running along in front of him. I
knew that an encounter could not be avoided. Accordingly I sprang
forward and drove my fist into his neck. Instantly I found myself
grappling with him. I felt the watch in his waistcoat pocket as I
pressed my knee into his stomach, and with my face near his I could see
by the look in his eyes that my blow had staggered him and put him at a
disadvantage. Some years ago I could deliver a heavy punch and the knack
had stayed with me. I threw my weight against him once more, bore him
down onto the leaves and gravel, and found myself on top.

Both of us were panting; we were breathing into each other's faces when
suddenly I saw his eyes open wide as if he had seen a vision.

"I know you now. You are the doctor!" cried he. "Stop! Tell me, for
God's sake, what's wrong with my wife!"

"Your wife?" I cried, dumbfounded. "Who are you?"

He struggled to his feet and leered at me. His face twitched with
emotion.

"I am Jermyn Estabrook," he gasped.

You may imagine my astonishment when, after struggling with a man who
had pursued me through the dark paths of the park like one who sought my
life, he whom I had never seen before should now appeal to me as if I
could lift him from the depths of some profound despair. He had cried
out that I must tell him what was wrong with his wife. I had never so
much as set eyes upon her. He had said he was Jermyn Estabrook. And
though, with my face close to his, I could see that he was covered with
bits of dead leaves and mud and the sweat of his desperate struggle, I
felt that he told the truth.

"I have never been to your home but once in my life," I said. "You were
watching me on that occasion--to-night. That is plain. I did not go
in."

"I have made a mistake," he gasped. "I'm sorry. I have been through
torments beyond telling. Something is going on--some ghastly, horrible
tragedy within my own walls."

The word caught my ear; I gripped his shoulder.

"Listen, Estabrook," I cried. "It is