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Rh "Shut the door!"

Carlson obeyed.

"Now, here's the proposition. We've got a sick woman on our hands—damned sick! But she’s got in trouble with the law and the police are after her. Get me?"

"Yes. Go on."

"Well, that's why she doesn't go to a hospital, and that’s why we had to get you. Get me?"

"Go on."

"Very good! Now your job is just this: Look at her and find out what in Hell is the matter with her, and write out a prescription—No! That won't do, either. Somebody might get on to it. You've got your medicines with you, have you?"

"I have some medicines in my bag."

"Good! You'll give me the dope she needs, and then get out and away from here as fast as you can and keep your mouth shut. You'll be taken home safe, and you'll get your money all right. Do you get me?"

"I understand."

"Good! Just one other thing. You can't see her face, and there can't be any talking, not one word. You understand?"

Carlson felt that the time had come for him to say something, and he said it:

"You damned fool! What kind of an examination do you think a doctor can make if he can't see his patient or hear her talk? Have you never been to a doctor yourself?" The man hesitated, fingering his automatic.

"Open that door!" he commanded, after a pause. Carlson did as he was told.

"Teresa!" She appeared so quickly that Carlson was sure that she had been listening behind the door. "The doctor will have to ask her a few questions, and she will have to answer. Go and tell her. And tell her from me—that if she says anything she doesn’t have to say—T. N. T. for her! Do you get me?"

"All right, Boss, I'll tell her."

She spoke with a cruel chuckle that all but made Carlson shudder. While he waited for further orders from his captor, he tried to get a line on the mystery he was involved in. But nothing came to him. Was the sick woman he was about to visit a fugitive or a captive? Probably the latter; and if so, why?

He furtively inspected the dressing-room and its contents. It was richly and beautifully furnished—like the large bedroom it adjoined, as far as his very brief glance had discovered. It was on a corner and had two windows, with curtains tightly drawn. At the end. farthest from the door of entrance, was another door, standing half open and showing a glimpse of a lavatory and bathtub. Nothing hopeful thus far.

Then he noticed a small black box on the wall nearest the corner, with a green cord leading from it and disappearing behind a screen. Not until his anxious glance had shifted elsewhere did Carlson realize the possible significance of that green cord. Surely, what else could it mean but a telephone behind that screen! A telephone.

The masked woman suddenly appeared at the door.

"She's ready for the doctor," she snapped out viciously.

Carlson looked at his masked companion for orders.

"Go with her," he said. "And don't ask her no questions that are none of your damned business! If you do, you'll go out of this house in two or three suit cases! Get me?"

Carlson did not answer, and followed the woman to a darkened bedside. The man also followed, and stood at the foot of the bed.