CHAPTER XV.
"I suppose," said Roland, "you thought for a moment I was trying tocommit suicide. I think, Mr. Stratton, you will have a better opinion ofme by-and-by. I shouldn't be at all surprised if you imagined I inducedyou to come in here to get you into a trap."
"You are perfectly correct," said Stratton; "and I may say, althoughthat was my belief, I was not in the least afraid of you, for I had youcovered all the time."
"Well," remarked Roland, carelessly, "I don't want to interfere withyour business at all, but I wish you wouldn't cover me quite so much;that revolver of yours might go off."
"Do you mean to say," said Stratton, "that there is nothing but quininein those capsules?"
"I'll tell you in a moment," as he opened them one by one. "No, there isnothing but quinine here. Thirty grains put up in five-grain capsules."
George Stratton's eyes began to open. Then he slowly rose, and lookedwith horrified face at the doctor.
"My God!" he cried; "who got the thirty grains of morphia?"
"What do you mean?" asked the doctor.
"Mean? Why, don't you see it? It is a chemist's mistake. Thirty grainsof quinine have been sent you. Thirty grains of morphia have been sentto somebody else. Was it to William Brenton?"
"By Jove!" said the doctor, "there's something in that. Say, let us goto the drug store."
The two went out together, and walked to the drug store on the corner ofBlank Street and Nemo Avenue.
"Do you know this writing?" said Doctor Roland to the druggist, pointingto the label on the box.
"Yes," answered the druggist; "that was written by one of myassistants."
"Can we see him for a few moments?"
"I don't know where he is to be found. He is a worthless fellow, and hasgone to the devil this last few weeks with a rapidity that is somethingstartling."
"When did he leave?"
"Well, he got drunk and stayed drunk during the holidays, and I had todischarge him. He was a very valuable man when he was sober; but hebegan to be so erratic in his habits that I was afraid he would make aghastly mistake some time, so I discharged him before it was too late?"
"Are you sure you discharged him before it was too late."
The druggist looked at the doctor, whom he knew well, and said, "I neverheard of any mistake, if he did make it."
"You keep a book, of course, of all the prescriptions sent out?"
"Certainly."
"May we look at that book?"
"I shall be very glad to show it to you. What month or week?"
"I want to see what time you sent this box of morphia to me."
"You don't know about what time it was, do you?
"Yes; it must have been about two weeks before Christmas."
The chemist looked over the pages of the book, and finally said, "Hereit is."
"Will you let me look at that page?"
"Certainly."
The doctor ran his finger down the column, and came to an entry writtenin the same hand.
"Look here," he said to Stratton, "thirty grains of quinine sent toWilliam Brenton, and next to it thirty grains of morphia sent to StephenRoland. I see how it was. Those prescriptions were mixed up. My packagewent to poor Brenton."
The druggist turned pale.
"I hope," he said, "nothing public will come of this."
"My dear sir," said Roland, "something public will _have_ to come ofit. You will oblige me by ringing up the central police station, as thisbook must be given in charge of the authorities."
"Look here," put in Stratton, his newspaper instinct coming uppermost,"I want to get this thing exclusively for the _Argus_."
"Oh, I guess there will be no trouble about that. Nothing will be madepublic until to-morrow, and you can telegraph to-night if we find thebox of capsules in Brenton's residence. We must take an officer with usfor that purpose, but you can caution or bribe him to keep quiet untilto-morrow."
When the three went to William Brenton's residence they began a searchof the room in which Brenton had died, but nothing was found. In thecloset of the room hung the clothes of Brenton, and going through themStratton found in the vest pocket of one of the suits a small boxcontaining what was described as five-grain capsules of sulphate ofquinine. The doctor tore one of these capsules apart, so as to see whatwas in it. Without a moment's hesitation he said--
"There you are! That is the morphia. There were six capsules in thisbox, and one of them is missing. William Brenton poisoned himself!Feeling ill, he doubtless took what he thought was a dose of quinine.Many men indulge in what we call the quinine habit. It is getting to bea mild form of tippling. Brenton committed unconscious suicide!"
CHAPTER XVI.
A group of men; who were really alive, but invisible to the searchers,stood in the room where the discovery was made. Two of the number wereevidently angry, one in one way and one in another. The rest of thegroup appeared to be very merry. One angry man was Brenton himself, whowas sullenly enraged. The other was the Frenchman, Lecocq, who was asdeeply angered as Brenton, but, instead of being sullen, was exceedinglyvoluble.
"I tell you," he cried, "it is not a mistake of mine. I went on correctprinciples from the first. I was misled by one who should have knownbetter. You will remember, gentlemen," he continued, turning first toone and then the other, "that what I said was that we had certain factsto go on. One of those facts I got from Mr. Brenton. I said to him inyour presence, 'Did you poison yourself?' He answered me, as I can proveby all of you, 'No, I did not.' I took that for a fact. I thought I wasspeaking to a reasonable man who knew what he was talking about."
"Haven't I told you time and again," answered Brenton, indignantly,"that it was a mistake? You asked me if I poisoned myself. I answeredyou that I did not. Your question related to suicide. I did _not_ commitsuicide. I was the victim of a druggist's mistake. If you had asked meif I had taken medicine before I went to bed, I should have told youfrankly, 'Yes. I took one capsule of quinine.' It has been my habit foryears, when I feel badly. I thought nothing of that."
"My dear sir," said Lecocq, "I warned you, and I warned these gentlemen,that the very things that seem trivial to a thoughtless person are thethings that sometimes count. You should have told me _everything_. Ifyou took anything at all, you should have said so. If you had said tome, 'Monsieur Lecocq, before I retired I took five grains of quinine,'I should have at once said; 'Find where that quinine is, and see if it_is_ quinine, and see if there has not been a mistake.' I was entirelymisled; I was stupidly misled."
"Well, if there was stupidity," returned Brenton, "it was your own."
"Come, come, gentlemen," laughed Speed, "all's well that ends well.Everybody has been mistaken, that's all about it. The best detectiveminds of Europe and America, of the world, and of the spirit-land, havebeen misled. You are _all_ wrong. Admit it, and let it end."
"My dear sir," said Lecocq, "I shall not admit anything. I was notwrong; I was misled. It was this way----"
"Oh, now, for goodness' sake don't go over it all again. We understandthe circumstances well enough."
"I tell you," cried Brenton, in an angry tone, "that----
"Come, come," said Speed, "we have had enough of this discussion. I tellyou that you are all wrong, every one of you. Come with me, Brenton, andwe will leave this amusing crowd."
"I shall do nothing of the kind," answered Brenton, shortly.
"Oh, very well then, do as you please. I am glad the thing is ended, andI am glad it is ended by my Chicago friend."
"Your Chicago friend!" sneered Brenton, slightingly; "It was discoveredby Doctor Stephen Roland."
"My dear fellow," said Speed, "Stephen Roland had all his time todiscover the thing, and didn't do it, and never would have done it, ifGeorge Stratton hadn't encountered him. Well, good-bye, gentlemen; I amsorry to say that I have had quite enough of this discussion. But onething looms up above it all, and that is that Chicago is ahead of theworld in everything--in detection as well as in fir
es."
"My dear sir," cried Lecocq, "it is not true. I will show you in amoment--"
"You won't show _me_," said Speed, and he straightway disappeared.
"Come, Ferris," said Brenton, "after all, you are the only friend I seemto have; come with me."
"Where are you going?" asked Ferris, as they left.
"I want to see how my wife takes the news."
"Don't," said Mr. Ferris--"don't do anything of the kind. Leave mattersjust where they are. Everything has turned out what you would call allright. You see that your interference, as far as it went, was perfectlyfutile and useless. I want now to draw your attention to other things."
"Very well, I will listen to you," said Brenton, "if you come with meand see how my wife takes the news. I want to enjoy for even a moment ortwo her relief and pleasure at finding that her good name is clear."
"Very well," assented Ferris, "I will go with you."
When they arrived they found the Chicago reporter ahead of them. He hadevidently told Mrs. Brenton all the news, and her face flushed witheager pleasure as she listened to the recital.
"Now," said the Chicago man, "I am going to leave Cincinnati. Are yousorry I am going?"
"No," said Mrs. Brenton, looking him in the face, "I am not sorry."
Stratton flushed at this, and then said, taking his hat in his hand,"Very well, madam, I shall bid you good day."
"I am not sorry," said Mrs. Brenton, holding out her hand, "because Iam going to leave Cincinnati myself, and I hope never to see the cityagain. So if you stayed here, you see, I should never meet you again,Mr. Stratton."
"Alice," cried Stratton, impulsively grasping her hand in both of his,"don't you think you would like Chicago as a place of residence?"
"George," she answered, "I do not know. I am going to Europe, and shallbe there for a year or two."
Then he said eagerly--
"When you return, or if I go over there to see you after a year or two,may I ask you that question again?"
"Yes," was the whispered answer.
* * * * *
"Come," said Brenton to Ferris, "let us go."
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends