"The man has been dead about eight or nine hours," he said, "it's impossible to fix the time of his death exactly,—but I place it at about three o'clock this morning. Though it may have taken place an hour sooner or later."
"What caused it?" Somers, asked, "a stroke?"
"Can't tell without an autopsy. There is positively no indication of any reason for it."
"A natural death, of course?" Thorpe asked, jerkily.
The doctor gave him a quick glance. "Looks so," he returned. "Maybe a stroke,—though he's young for that. Maybe acute indigestion, is he troubled that way?"
"With indigestion? Yes," Thorpe said; "he has it most of the time. But not acute,—merely a little discomfort when he overeats,—which he often does."
"Does he take anything for it?"
"I don't know,—yes, I've seen him take remedies now and then. I've not paid it much attention."
"Queer case," the doctor mused. "If it had been that, he would have cried out, I think. Did you hear no disturbance?"
"Not a bit," said Thorpe. "Are you sure it's not a stroke?"