Before my dear lady and I had time to ask any questions, Saunders arrived in a taxicab. He was accompanied by the medical officer, Dr. Townson, who at once busied himself with the dead man, whilst Saunders went up quickly to Lady Molly.
“The chief suggested sending for you,” he said quickly; “he was ’phoning you when I left. There’s a woman in this case, and we shall rely on you a good deal.”
“What has happened?” asked my dear lady, whose fine eyes were glowing with excitement at the mere suggestion of work.
“I have only a few stray particulars,” replied Saunders, “but the chief witness is that yellow-haired girl over there. We’ll find out what we can from her directly Dr. Townson has given us his opinion.”
The medical officer, who had been kneeling beside the dead man, now rose and turned to Saunders. His face was very grave.
“The whole matter is simple enough, so far as I am concerned,” he said. “The man has been killed by a terrific dose of morphia—administered, no doubt, in this cup of chocolate,” he added, pointing to a cup in which there still lingered the cold dregs of the thick beverage.
“But when did this occur?” asked Saunders, turning to the waitress.
“I can’t say,” she replied, speaking with obvious nervousness. “The gentleman came in very early with a lady, somewhere about four. They made straight for this alcove. The place was just beginning to fill, and the music had begun.”
“And where is the lady now?”
“She went off almost directly. She had ordered tea for herself and a cup of chocolate for the gentleman, also muffins and cakes. About five minutes afterwards, as I went past their table, I heard her say to him, ‘I am afraid I must go now, or Jay’s will be closed, but I’ll be back in less than half an hour. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?’ ”