Page:Arthur B Reeve - The Dream Doctor.djvu/342

 leaned over. Near the point, in the tube through which the point for writing was, protruded a small accumulator and tiny electric lamp which threw a little disc of light, so small that it could be hidden by the hand, yet quite sufficient to guide Craig in moving the point of his pencil for the proper formation of whatever he was recording on the surface of the paper.

"An electric-light pencil," he remarked laconically, in an undertone.

"Who were the others?" demanded Andrews of Dana.

There was a pause as though he were debating whether or not to answer at all. "I don't know," he said at length. "I wish I did."

"You don't know?" queried Andrews, with incredulity.

"No. I say I wish I did know. You and your dog interrupted me just as I was about to find out, too."

We looked at each other in amazement. Andrews was frankly skeptical of the coolness of the young man. Kennedy said nothing for some moments.

"I see you don't want to talk," he put in shortly.

"Nothing to talk about," grunted Dana, in disgust.

"Then why are you here?"

"Nothing but conjecture. No facts, only suspicions," said Dana, half to himself.

"You expect us to believe that?" insinuated Andrews.

"I can't help what you believe. That is the fact."

"And you were not with them?"

"No."