ALLAN looked dazed when the superintendent had gone. They all looked dazed.
“I am wondering,” said Dr. Hartel, “whether Cheney was sent to do this by his father, or whether, knowing that his father was suspected, he did the thing on his own account.”
“But we don’t know that Cheney did it,” said Mrs. Hartel.
“True,” the Doctor replied, “but the chances are much that way. Allan,” the Doctor continued, “we had better go out and look over the place again.”
“A cat might have knocked them down,” suggested Mrs. Hartel, as they were leaving.
But there could be no suspicion of a cat. There were no broken fragments anywhere. The only negative in the rack was that of Artie on the wheel.
“And you found the door unlocked?” asked the Doctor.
“Yes,” Allan said confidently. “At first I didn’t think anything of it. But I remember distinctly now that I locked it, and I remember thinking that it was foolish to bother locking it.”
The Doctor shook his head. “It is too bad. I am sorry about Cheney.”
Before going back to the house Dr. Hartel made some suggestions as to the keeping of the chemicals, as to guarding the floor from drippings of the hypo, as to pouring from the bottles, as to keeping the place free from dust, and so on.