Kennedy did not seem to mind it, but to me it seemed
that he must be hiding something. Was there some secret which
medical ethics kept locked in his breast? Kennedy had risen and
excused himself.
The interviews had not resulted in much, I felt, yet Kennedy did
not seem to care. Back in the city again, he buried himself in his
laboratory for the rest of the day, most of the time in his dark
room, where he was developing photographic plates or films, I did
not know which.
During the afternoon Andrews dropped in for a few moments to
report that he had nothing to add to what had already developed.
He was not much impressed by the interviews.
"There's just one thing I want to speak about, though," he said at
length, unburdening his mind. "That tomb and the swamp, too, ought
to be watched. Last night showed me that there seems to be a
regular nocturnal visitor and that we cannot depend on that town
night watchman to scare him off. Yet if we watch up there, he will
be warned and will lie low. How can we watch both places at once
and yet remain hidden?"
Kennedy nodded approval of the suggestion.
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