"Letty! My God!"
A short silence followed and she saw that he was thinking, deeply, swiftly. The cold perspiration stood out on his forehead but he did not appear to notice it. He dropped her wrist and his hand fell as if made of stone.
"Now you understand, Tom. I—I am speaking for I—I—want you to clear yourself."
"Then it has gone as far as this?" He gave a groan. "It was that drug—Letty, are you sure they have found out about that drug?"
"Yes, but do not say I said so."
"That drug is accursed—a Chinese student told me so. I laughed at him then, but now I believe it. The first time I carried it around with me I was wrecked in a railroad accident and had my arm hurt. Then, two weeks later, when I had it with me, I got caught in that hotel fire in Buffalo. After that a vial once broke on me and if I hadn't gotten away in a hurry I should have been smothered. And now—"
"Have you carried any of it lately?"
"No, not for a month. I was afraid of it, and so was the firm. We got rid of it, and I was glad of it." He bit his lip meditatively. "And they think—they suspect—that that drug was used? It may be."
"Cannot you trace where the drug went to, Tom?"
"That might be possible, although a good many people saw and heard of it while our firm handled it."