There's some
mystery about all this affair, Mr. Goodyer, and it's going to take some
unravelling."
"You're right!" said Goodyer. "I believe you!"
He went off along the street, and the detective turned to Purdie and
motioned him towards the hospital.
"Queer, all that, sir!" he muttered. "Very queer! But it all tends to
showing that my theory's the right one. Now if you'll just stop in the
waiting-room a few minutes, I'll find out if these doctors have come to
any conclusion about the precise nature of the poison."
Purdie waited for ten minutes, speculating on the curiosities of the
mystery into which he had been so strangely plunged: at last the detective
came back, shaking his head.
"Can't get a definite word out of 'em, yet," he said, as they went away.
"There's two or three of 'em--big experts in--what do you call it--oh,
yes, toxology--putting their heads together over the analysing business,
and they won't say anything so far--they'll leave that to the inquest. But
I gathered this much, Mr. Purdie, from the one I spoke to--this man
Parslett was poisoned in some extremely clever fashion, and by some poison
that's not generally known, which was administered to him probably half-
an-hour before it took effect.
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