“Oh? Did he take it neat, then? Rather unpleasant. And not very safe either; a grain of the stuff wouldn’t be much larger than a big pin’s head.”
“Sir Henry found a considerable quantity of it,” said the inspector steadily, “mixed up with the contents of the tobacco-jar.”
“The tobacco-jar?” echoed Roger in incredulous tones.
“He also found it,” pursued the inspector, “in the pipe which Meadows had been smoking, particularly in the stem. He says there can be no doubt that that was the vehicle through which it entered his system. There was no trace of it in anything else.”
“His—his pipe!” Roger stammered, staring at his companion with round eyes. “But—but in that case⸺!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Well—that seems to put suicide almost out of the question!”
“Exactly,” agreed the inspector blandly.
Roger continued to stare at him. “Good Heavens, you don’t mean⸺?”
“What, sir?”