Chapter XII: A Surprising Development

“You say that Doctor Hiram Grantley has offered his services to J. Hackley Baldwin? What do you mean?”

These two startled questions were put by Nick Carter to a handsome, impressive-looking man of the most polished professional aspect.

The scene of the interview was the detective’s study, and the gray-haired man in eyeglasses, with whom he was closeted, was Doctor Delos Vanderpool, physician to many of the most exclusive families in the city, and, more particularly, the family practitioner of J. Hackley Baldwin, the blind multimillionaire.

“I mean exactly what I say, Mr. Carter,” Doctor Vanderpool replied gravely. “There is no room for mistake, unfortunately. Grantley, the surgeon who has been shown up so completely--thanks to you--in connection with his reckless and shocking experiments on living human beings, has had the effrontery to approach Mr. Baldwin and offer to perform an operation on his eyes.”

The detective’s attitude relaxed as a result of this explanation. He knew as well as anybody that the powerful millionaire had been totally blind for years, and had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars and submitted to numerous operations in vain, in an attempt to recover his sight.

“Well, what of it?” he asked quietly. “I am surprised that Grantley should have aimed so high, after all the undesirable publicity of his recent trial; but he cannot operate on Mr. Baldwin without his consent, and surely there is not the slightest likelihood that that will be granted.”

“That is just the trouble,” the physician responded, with a worried look in his eyes.

“You mean that Mr. Baldwin is actually considering the fellow’s offer?” Nick queried, in surprise.

Vanderpool nodded reluctantly.

“I am sorry to say he is,” he answered. “More than that, he seems determined to place himself in Grantley’s hands. Nothing I have been able to say appears to have shaken his resolve in the smallest degree.”

Carter whistled.

“Doesn’t he know what Hiram Grantley is?” he demanded.

“Mr. Baldwin keeps in touch, through his secretaries, with everything of importance that goes on in the world,” was the reply. “He claims to have followed Grantley’s trial very closely. Moreover, I have taken it upon myself to speak very plainly to him. As a matter of fact, though, he knows a great deal more about Grantley than I do. He has caused the most minute inquiries into the man’s professional record to be made, and, as a consequence, he has discovered that Grantley has had remarkable success as an eye surgeon in many cases. Not only that, but Grantley himself seems to have made a great impression on Mr. Baldwin by the confident way in which he has stated his qualifications and declared his belief that he could restore the financier’s sight. Now, Mr. Carter, there is no doubt, of course, that Hiram Grantley has been one of the ablest surgeons in America, if not in the world. Strictly speaking, there is nothing to be said against his qualifications, and a great deal to be said for them. But the man has been under suspicion for years, and is thoroughly discredited now. His scientific zeal and ruthless disregard of life have carried him beyond all bounds and made him no better than a murderer in the eyes even of his brother surgeons. You caught him red-handed, and although twelve fools in a jury room saw fit to disagree over his guilt, he stands condemned to-day before the world’s bar of judgment. Shall such a man be permitted to do as he pleases with one of the most precious lives in the country? And, aside from his unsavory record, he has violated professional ethics in the most serious way by making an unsolicited offer of that sort. What is behind it? That is what is worrying me chiefly, however. Is it based on actual confidence in his ability to cure Mr. Baldwin’s blindness, and designed to restore Baldwin himself to popular favor; or is it not possible that there is a secret and sinister motive in the background, which threatens Mr. Baldwin with injury or death? You can see now why I have come to you.”

Nick Carter remained silent for perhaps a minute, thoughtfully studying the blotter on his desk.

“How far has it gone?” he inquired presently. “Has the date of the operation been set?”

“Yes, the day after to-morrow, at ten a. m.”

“And the place?”

Doctor Vanderpool made a wry face.

“Grantley’s residence and ‘private hospital’ in the Bronx--the scene of your raid,” he said.

“Baldwin is evidently willing to take chances in order to recover his sight,” the detective said musingly, after another brief pause. “As you say, it is quite possible, theoretically at least, that Grantley has sufficient skill to do what the others have failed to do. He has certainly performed many surgical miracles. This seems to be another instance of a drowning man grasping at a straw. In his anxiety to see again, Baldwin does not care what liberties Grantley’s knife may have taken with the bodies of obscure persons living on the East Side, or how near he came to murdering us that night, after we had interfered with his bloody scientific pastimes. Your multimillionaire friend feels confident that Grantley would not dare try any tricks on him, and he is willing to overlook the unprofessional manner of the man’s approach. He is impatient toward restraint, used to having his own way in everything, and, fired by a new hope, he is harder to manage than ever. Is that the way you interpret the situation, doctor?”

“I could not hope to put it better.”

“That is the way I size it up--that part of it, anyway. As for the rest, however, you’ll have to give me a little time to think it over. I’m very glad you came to me. As you say, there may be something queer back of it. By the way, can you arrange an interview for me with Mr. Baldwin, in case I find it necessary to call upon him?”

“Certainly.”

“Very well. I may ask you to do so later on. In any case, I shall let you know as soon as I come to any decision.”

Doctor Vanderpool rose to go, and took his departure after a few more words, confident that he had placed the matter in the best possible hands.

Nick Carter remained at his desk, absent-mindedly drawing circles on his blotter.

The puzzle which had been given to him to solve was a decidedly unusual one, and it might mean almost anything--or next to nothing.