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Updated: June 25, 2025
The return to health was quicker and more complete than I had dared to hope; the craving for morphia has not reappeared, and I do not think it will." "Oh, you darling!" cried Amaryllis. "I always thought you'd something to do with it." "It is the story of two cases only, I admit," continued Caldegard.
"And as soon as he's clear of the Army, he finds he's got money to burn," chuckled Caldegard. "No wonder it's six months before he pays a visit to his respectable big brother." Amaryllis gathered up her half-read letters, and walked absent-mindedly to the open french-window. "Oh well," continued her father, "I'm afraid there aren't many sensations left for your rolling stone."
Discharged at a moment when his hope of mastering a valuable secret was at its height, he had found means to track Caldegard's movements, and even, it seemed, to discover the hiding-place of the perfected drug and its formula. "Agent or, p'r'aps, a leading member of the Dope Gang Caldegard hinted at. He lays his plans to grab the stuff and the formula.
Rogers," said Dick, and went out. "I've told 'em we'll have our wine and coffee in the study, Caldegard," said Randal. "I think it's the safest place for what we're going to talk about." Amaryllis rose to leave them together, but her father stopped her. "You'll come with us, won't you, my dear? You're one of the gang," he said. "What gang?" she asked, looking at him with eyes opened wide.
Randal Bellamy's country house was a place of pleasant breakfasts. From the dining room the outlook was delightful; grass, flowers and sunshine, with the host's easy charm, made it almost as easy for Theophilus Caldegard to drink his tea fresh, as for his daughter Amaryllis not to keep her host, Sir Randal, waiting for his coffee.
For a minute he watched her unobtrusively, and wondered why the life had gone out of her. "Sleepy, Miss Caldegard?" he asked at last. "No," she replied. "Tired a little and worried. Everybody's so keen on something. Father on you know what. You, though I've never seen you do anything, look keener than any man I ever saw; and Sir Randal's keen about horrid business-letters.
Such a man's knowledge in physics, chemistry and biology, though less precise, is often wider than that of the individual specialist. His friendship with Theophilus Caldegard, begun at Cambridge, had lasted and grown stronger with the years. On the evening of his brother's arrival he dressed for dinner later than was his custom.
The first thing to do, therefore, was to find Melchard's address, and the first man to ask was Caldegard. If Caldegard could not give it to him, it meant a long hunt with the police. Anyway, he must begin with Caldegard. He crossed to the telephone, lifted the receiver, and, hearing no tinkle, blew into the transmitter with the receiver at his ear. Hearing nothing, he hung it up with a curse.
In your fear for her safety you have forgotten your drug; in our fear for the drug we cannot let your daughter out of our minds." "She may be dead," said Caldegard. The Superintendent answered him. "I don't believe it," he declared. "You see, sir, the thief's plan worked smoothly, bar the one unexpected factor the young lady in the room. If he didn't kill her then, he don't mean to kill her."
"This," said Caldegard: "For several years each of those old women had been taking morphia; each had been concealing it from the other; each had suffered in conscience the torture of the damned; each confessed to me her vice, and the dreadful failure of her struggle to overcome it. Experimentally I treated each with Ambrotox, in gradually decreasing doses.
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