in complete and harmonious agreement," smiled Markham.
Just then Swacker came in and handed Markham a letter.
"Brought by messenger, and marked 'immediate,'" he explained.
The letter, written on heavy engraved stationery, was from Doctor Lindquist, and explained that between the hours of 11 p. m. and 1 a. m. on Monday night he had been in attendance on a patient at his sanitarium. It also apologized for his actions when asked regarding his whereabouts, and offered a wordy, but not particularly convincing, explanation of his conduct. He had had an unusually trying day, it seemed—neurotic cases were trying, at best—and the suddenness of our visit, together with the apparently hostile nature of Markham's questions, had completely upset him. He was more than sorry for his outburst, he said, and stood ready to assist in any way he could. It was unfortunate for all concerned, he added, that he had lost his temper, for it would have been a simple matter for him to explain about Monday night.
"He has thought the situation over calmly," said Vance, "and hereby offers you a neat little alibi which, I think, you will have difficulty in shaking. . . . An artful beggar—like all these unbalanced pseudo-psychiatrists. Observe: he was with a patient. To be sure! What patient? Why, one too ill to be questioned. . . . There you are. A cul-de-sac masquerading as an alibi. Not bad, what?"
"It doesn't interest me overmuch." Markham put the letter away. "That pompous professional ass
