There must have been
a poison there. He did not die primarily of the wound. It was
asphyxia due to a poison that really killed him, though the wound
might have done so, but not quite so quickly."
I could tell by the look that crossed Kennedy's face that at last
a ray of light had pierced the darkness. He reached for a bottle
on the shelf labelled spirits of turpentine.
Then he poured a little of the blood sample from the jar which the
coroner had brought into a clean tube and added a few drops of the
spirits of turpentine. A cloudy, dark precipitate formed. He
smiled quietly, and said, half to himself, "I thought so."
"What is it?" asked the coroner eagerly, "nux vomica?"
Craig shook his head as he stared at the black precipitate. "You
were perfectly right about the asphyxiation, Doctor," he remarked
slowly, "but wrong as to the cause. It was a poison--one you would
never dream of."
"What is it?" Leslie and I asked simultaneously.
"Let me take all these samples and make some further tests," he
said. "I am quite sure of it, but it is new to me. By the way, may
I trouble you and Leslie to go over to the Museum of Natural
History with a letter?"
It was evident that he wanted to work uninterrupted, and we agreed
readily, especially because by going we might also be of some use
in solving the mystery of the poison.
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