"Make him sleep?" Ronny stared. "He always slept like a top."
"You never heard him complain of sleeplessness?"
"Never."
"Well, the facts are simple enough. There'll have to be an inquest, I'm afraid, nevertheless."
"How did he die?"
"There's not much doubt; I should say an overdose of chloral. The stuff was by his bed. And a bottle and glass. Very sad, these things are."
It was Jimmy who asked the question which he felt was trembling on his friend's lips, and yet which the other could somehow or other not get out.
"There's no question of—foul play?"
The doctor looked at him sharply.
"Why do you say that? Any cause to suspect it, eh?"