Rusty whined and moved back lazily. Craig bent over
and looked at him.
"What's the matter with Rusty?" he asked. "Is he sick, too?"
"Why--yes," answered Elaine, following Craig with her deep eyes.
"Poor Rusty. He woke me up this morning. He feels as badly as I
do, poor old fellow."
Craig reached down and gently pulled the collie out into the room.
Rusty crouched down close to the floor. His nose was hot and dry
and feverish. He was plainly ill.
"How long has Rusty been in the room?" asked Craig.
"All night," answered Elaine. "I wouldn't think of being without
him now."
Kennedy lifted the dog by his front paws. Rusty submitted
patiently, but without any spirit.
"May I take Rusty along with me?" he asked finally.
Elaine hesitated. "Surely," she said at length, "only, be gentle
with him."
Craig looked at her as though it would be impossible to be
otherwise with anything belonging to Elaine.
"Of course," he said simply. "I thought that I might be able to
discover the trouble from studying him."
We stayed only a few minutes longer, for Kennedy seemed to realize
the necessity of doing something immediately and even Dr. Hayward
was fighting in the dark. As for me, I gave it up, too. I could
find no answer to the mystery of what was the peculiar malady of
Elaine.
Back in the laboratory, Kennedy set to work immediately, brushing
everything else aside.
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