"It was such a good forgery," observed the doctor, "that even Alt himself could hardly swear that it was one."
"Is he your man?" asked Scarth, in a sudden whisper, leaning forward with lighted eyes.
The crime doctor smiled enigmatically. "It's perhaps just as lucky for him, Scarth, that at least he could have had nothing to do with the second attempt upon his patient's life."
"The hand that forged the prescription, Scarth, with intent to poison young Laverick, was the one that also filed the flaw in his toboggan, in the hope of breaking his neck."
"My dear doctor," exclaimed Mostyn Scarth, with a pained shake of the head, "this is stark, staring madness!"
"I only hope it was—in the would-be murderer," rejoined Dollar gravely. "But he had a lot of method; he even did his bit of filing—a burglar couldn't have done it better—in the domino Jack Laverick had just taken off!"
"How do you know he had taken it off? How do you know the whole job wasn't one of Jack's drunken tricks?"
"What whole job?"
"The one you're talking about—the alleged tampering with his toboggan," replied Scarth, impatiently.