"It's all right, doctor," said the inspector; "and we shan't detain you
a moment." He glanced over his shoulder. "Mr. Hilton, M. R. C. S." he
said, indicating the dark man--"Dr. Cumberly and Miss Cumberly."
The divisional surgeon bowed to Helen and eagerly grasped the hand of
the celebrated physician.
"I am fortunate in being able to ask your opinion," he began....
Dr. Cumberly nodded shortly, and with upraised hand, cut him short.
"I shall willingly give you any assistance in my power," he said;
"but my daughter has voluntarily committed herself to a rather painful
ordeal, and I am anxious to get it over."
He stooped and raised the fur from the ghastly face.
Helen, her hand resting upon her father's shoulder, ventured one rapid
glance and then looked away, shuddering slightly. Dr. Cumberly replaced
the coat and gazed anxiously at his daughter. But Helen, with admirable
courage, having closed her eyes for a moment, reopened them, and smiled
at her father's anxiety. She was pale, but perfectly composed.
"Well, Miss Cumberly?" inquired the inspector, eagerly; whilst all in
the room watched this slim girl in her charming deshabille, this dainty
figure so utterly out of place in that scene of morbid crime.
She raised her gray eyes to the detective.
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