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Winter saw him from afar, and hastened upstairs to the private sitting-room. Furneaux appeared there soon. "Well?" said the Chief Inspector eagerly. "Got him, I think," said Furneaux. Not much might be gathered from that monosyllabic question and its answer, but its significance in Siddle's ears, could he have heard, would have been that of the passing bell tolling for the dead.
Grant seems to have been popular here; he had almost recovered from the blow of Miss Melhuish's death by the straightforward speech he made before the inquest. But Siddle threw him back into the mud by a few skillful words. What is Siddle's record? Is he a local man?" "I think not. Robinson can tell us." "Robinson says he 'believes' Siddle is a widower.
Foxton doesn't compound his own prescriptions, does he?" "No. I get 'em made up at Siddle's." "Ah. These country chemists often keep drugs in stock till they deteriorate, or even set up chemical changes. Have you the bottles?" "Yes. But what the " "Anything left in them?" "The last two are half full. Still " "What a cross-grained chap you are?
"Get over it quickly now, and get something out of it, and I'll give you a new hat. Got any tools?" "I fetched 'em from town Tuesday morning," chortled Furneaux. "So now who's the brainy one?" He skipped into the hotel, while Winter went to the station to make sure of Siddle's departure and destination.
Thus, he held a secure observation post both in front and rear of the hotel. "Well, how did she take it!" inquired the Chief Inspector, when he and his colleague were safe behind a closed door. "Sensible girl," said Furneaux. "By the way, Siddle's mother is dead. Telegram came this morning. Things should happen now." "I don't quite see why." "No.
"We read Siddle's visit aright, it would appear," said Winter quietly. "Yes. That was his mission, put in a nutshell." "And what did you say?" "I told him that, after Wednesday, I would ask Doris Martin to marry me, which is the best answer I can give him and all the world." "Why 'after Wednesday'?" "Because I shall know then the full extent of the annoyance which Ingerman can inflict."
He drew a blank in the remainder of the upstairs rooms, which included a sitting-room, though he devoted fully quarter of an hour to reading the titles of Siddle's books. A safe in the little dispensing closet at the back of the shop promised sheer defiance until Furneaux saw a bunch of keys resting beside a methylated spirit lamp. "'Twas ever thus!" he cackled, lighting the lamp.
"What is there particularly wrong about Robinson drinking a glass of beer?" demanded Doris, more alive to the insinuation in Siddle's words than was quite permissible under the role imposed on her by Winter. She waved her hand to the party on the lawn. Grant, whose eyes ever roved in that direction, had seen her white muslin dress the moment she appeared.
Give me your bottles, in strict confidence, of course, and I'll tell you what they really contain. Then you can compare the analyses with the doctor's prescriptions. The knowledge should be useful, to say the least. Siddle's reputation needn't suffer, but, unless I am greatly mistaken, you will have the whip hand of him in future." The prospect was alluring.
The day was Friday, and the last "commercial" of the week had departed by the mid-day train. "Wot's yer tonic?" demanded the butcher. "A glass of beer," threw Elkin over his shoulder. He had walked to the window, and was gazing moodily at the sign of the "plumber and decorator" who had taken Siddle's shop.
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