"Well, sir, her ladyship may be as innocent as the babe unborn, in which case I've a deal to answer for. But I believe, sir, that her sending for the police was just a part of her game—to pull the wool over our eyes, sir."
Roger shook his head slowly and drank his whisky before replying.
"I don't know, Chalmers, I'm completely at sea. Go on, though, let me hear all that Miss Rowe said to you."
"Well, sir, it was very little, but I caught something about a plot she'd got wind of, a plan between her ladyship and the doctor to kill Sir Charles by giving him typhoid fever, and you too, sir. She said something about germs, and—mind this, sir—Evian water. That's what made me act as I did, sir, in regard to her ladyship. There was no mistake about it; she was just going to pour that water away, sir, when it came over me what she was up to, and quick as a flash I grabbed her arm and wrenched the bottle out of her hands. If I were to go to prison for it, sir, I'd still swear I did right."
Roger nodded slowly, his face hardening.
"If this should be true, Chalmers, and not, as they want us to believe, a fabrication of Miss Rowe's brain, then——"
He broke off and for a second his eyes met those of the old servant.
Then the latter bent forward and finished the sentence for him.
"Then it's murder, sir, no other name for it. Those two killed Sir
Charles just as surely as if they'd put a bullet into him, and they
meant to get you, sir, one way or another. I'd take my oath on it.
It's my opinion the nurse got here just in time to save you."
"And yet, Chalmers, it's quite possible that business of the mineral water has some other, simple explanation. One must admit the possibility."
"Very good, sir, there's those who can examine into that bottle and say if there's anything amiss with it. I consider that bottle as evidence, sir, and I'm glad we've got it safely under lock and key."