"Yes," I said. "What's the exact proof of all this?"
"Oh, proof-!" Stone shook his fist. He crushed out his cigar, slapped at the knees of his trousers, and faced us with a sort of wild patience. "What kind of proof do you want? Nobody knew L., did they? At least, nobody who will come out and speak up now. He was never finger-printed. He was never mugged. He was never even detained on suspicion. If you've got no clues to a man while he's alive, how are you going to get clues after he's dead, except by the evidence he carries with him? The American War Department is satisfied, and I'm satisfied. Of course, you might think I'm telling you a lot of ghost stories, but I hope you can see some reason why I'd be doing it. I've chased all over England just to find Merrivale and tell him this, and all I got was a kick in the pants for my pains. So take it or leave it as you like. I don't want to get mad over this thing, and I'll give you all the help I can. But either you do believe me or you don't; and in any case let's skip it."
We were rolling out of Exeter. Evelyn and I looked at each other while Stone glowered at us: and it was impossible not to believe him. Evelyn soothed him down again while the miles rattled off behind us.
"But there's one important thing in connection with it," I said. "Why was L. in America? That is, was he on business? Was he occupied on any scheme then?"
"No. No, I'm pretty certain he wasn't."
"Why?"
"Because he said so," answered Stone with solemn heat. "Now, remember, he didn't conceal one thing about himself. He knew he was a goner, and he told the whole truth. Would there be any reason for lying then?" Stone settled back luxuriously and contemplated the pictures over the seats. "You've said I haven't done enough talking to justify what I've heard. But it strikes me there are a couple of points in connection with this murder that you're all overlooking."
"Go on."
"All right: tell me if I've got it straight. Last night Hogenauer goes to Antrim's house, and complains about his nerves or whatever it was; Antrim prescribes bromide, and Mrs. Antrim makes up the order. Somebody who wants to poison Hogenauer has got into the dispensary, switched the bromide and strychnine bottles, and pasted different labels on them. All right!" said Stone with emphasis, and extended his hand levelly. "Now, what I want to know is how in Sam Hill a murderer could know Antrim was going to give bromide, so that the bottles could be switched beforehand? How did the murder find it out? And, if he found it out, how was there time to go racing in and fool around with the bottles between the time Antrim said, `Bromide,' and the time his wife handed it out?"
Evelyn looked over at me, and her hazel eyes were shining.