The nurse turned scarlet at the curt command. Then quietly she rose and fetched the bottle, now half empty.
"Let me take it." The doctor's face was now as scarlet as her own, the veins upon his brow were swollen and hard as knotted cords; but his hand was very steady, as he took the bottle, removed the cork, smelled, tasted. "Who has had access to this bottle?" he thundered then, and his voice boded little good to any meddler.
"Mr. Brenton and myself."
"Who else?"
"Nobody."
The veins about the temples began throbbing heavily. Brenton could see the skin about them tighten to the pulse-beat. Between them, the keen eyes gleamed like balls of polished metal surcharged with electricity.
"Think again, nurse," Doctor Keltridge said slowly. "And remember that your professional reputation is at stake. That bottle has been emptied and refilled with water. Where has that bottle been?"
"On the mantel."
"Who has been in the room?"
"Mr. Brenton, myself, and the baby."