"What is it?" he asked.
"Laudanum," said the doctor. "An overdose of it."
"Where is the glass, then, in which it was taken?"
A tumbler stood upon the table close to the decanter-stopper. The doctor took it up.
"Yes, I noticed that," said Warrisden; "I noticed that it is clean."
The doctor took the glass to the window, turned it upside down, and held it to the light. It was quite dry, quite clean.
"Surely it's evident what happened," said Warrisden. "Chase came into the room, opened that cupboard door in the corner there. His keys are still dangling in the lock, he took the decanter and the tumbler out, placed them on the table at his side, sat down in his chair with the apple in his hand, leaned back and quietly died."
"Yes, no doubt," said the doctor. "But I think here will be found the reason why he leaned back and quietly died," and he touched the decanter. "Opium poisoning. It may not have been an overdose, but a regular practice." He went to the door and called for Mrs. Wither. Mrs. Wither had now returned to the house. When she came upstairs into the room, he pointed to the decanter.
"Did you ever see this before?"
"No, sir," she answered.