It was unexpected, of course, but
such cases are by no means unusual. He was formerly a keen
athlete, remember. 'Tis often so. Surely you don't suspect foul
play? I understood you to mean that his apprehensions were on
behalf of Phil."
Paul Harley stood still, staring meditatively in the other's
direction. "There is not a scrap of evidence to support such a
theory," he admitted, "but if you knew of the existence of any
poisonous agent which would produce effects simulating these
familiar symptoms, I should be tempted to take certain steps."
"If you are talking about poisons," said the physician, a rather
startled look appearing upon his face, "there are several I might
mention; but the idea seems preposterous to me. Why should any
one want to harm Charley Abingdon? When could poison have been
administered and by whom?"
"When, indeed?" murmured Harley. "Yet I am not satisfied."
"You're not hinting at--suicide?"
"Emphatically no."
"What had he eaten?"
"Nothing but soup, except that he drank a portion of a glass of
water. I am wondering if he took anything at Mr. Wilson's house."
He stared hard at Doctor McMurdoch. "It may surprise you to learn
that I have already taken steps to have the remains of the soup
from Sir Charles's plate examined, as well as the water in the
glass. I now propose to call upon Mr. Wilson in order that I may
complete this line of enquiry.
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