[Illustration]

The Flying Death

by Samuel Hopkins Adams

To
Schuyler C. Brandt
in token of a friendship which,
begun at old Hamilton,
has endured and strengthened,
as only college friendships can,
for an unbroken twenty years,
this book is dedicated.

CHAPTER ONE
THE INSOMNIAC

STANLEY RICHARD COLTON, M. D., heaved his powerful form to andfro in his bed and cursed the day he had come to Montant Point, which chancedto be the day just ended. All the world had been open to him, and hisfather’s yacht to bear him to whatsoever corner thereof he might elect,in search of that which, once forfeited, no mere millions may buy back, theknack of peaceful sleep. But his wise old family physician had prescribed thetip-end of Long Island. “Go down there to that suburban wilderness,Dick,” he had said, “and devote yourself to filling your lungs withthe narcotic ocean air. Practise feeding, breathing and loafing, and forgetthat you’ve ever practised medicine.”

Too much medicine was what ailed Dick Colton. Not that he had been taking it.On the contrary he had been administering it to others. Amid the unboundedamazement of his friends, who couldn’t see why the heir of the greatColton interests should want to devote his energies otherwhere, he had insistedon graduating from medical school, and, with a fashionable practice fairlyyearning for him, had entered upon the grimy and malodorous duties of adispensary among the tenement-folk. There, because the ch

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