“Well,” answered Ross, wearily, “he insisted on taking opiates; he knew how to take a hypodermic himself, but he took some other drug, heroin, perhaps. He was not a drug addict, but he often said that he would take anything to drown pain. It happened like a flash. I did not know that blood poison could travel so fast. The night he died he took an opiate and seemed drowsy, so that I said I would lie down for a moment or two. He took a bottle in which was a colorless liquid and poured some of it into a glass of milk. He was half asleep then, so I went to my room while he was drinking it, for he often took a glass of milk in that fashion. I had had very little sleep for two or three days and dozed off at once with all my clothing on. I could not have slept more than a quarter of an hour when I was awakened by a crash. It was the crash of breaking glass, as I learned an instant later. I rushed into his room to see him breathing his last. He had overturned the table on which were the bottles of medicine. But what a terrible sight greeted my eyes! His hands, arms, legs twitched and shot out from second to second, then before I could even call for help he had a convulsion and died. I called Dr. Lawson. It seemed an eternity before he answered. Miss Prettyman had heard my cries and she was with me. Dr. Lawson asked if he had taken anything besides the medicine he had prescribed. I said yes, he had taken a hypodermic and some other opiate.
“The hopeless fool,” he cried. “I warned him against that very thing. He practically killed himself. The shock of the operation was enough at one time.”
When he reached the house, he said it was too late to do anything.
“Did you look at the bottles on the floor?” asked the lawyer.
“Yes, sir,” replied Ross. “They were all thrown together in a broken heap—they had been on a small table at his bedside. In his struggles, he must have overturned them. Oh, it was terrible, terrible.” Here, the young man buried his head in his arms, shaking with the power of his emotions.
“Inspector,” said Dr. Jarvis, “that young man was describing a death from strychnine poisoning. We must find out where that strychnine came from. Look at that girl now!”
The inspector followed his gaze to where Tessie sat. She was obviously horror stricken. A look of despair crept into her face as she followed Ross’s descent from the stand. Ross was about to go to her side but at a sign from the inspector an officer took him by the arm, leading him to a chair near the inspector. His heart sank as he caught that look of despair on the girl’s face.
Every actor in the drama was apparently in court. Dr. Jarvis had caught the inspector’s fever for a man hunt. It was now a cold problem of science. He was not a judge, merely an instrument of justice. No longer was there a thought in his mind, any more than in that of the inspector, that any person should be shielded. He was going, from now on, to let the chips fall where they would.
“Inspector,” he said, “the whole situation now depends on how much that girl knows. I am going to ask Mr. Bailey to put me on the stand. I see exactly how the affair was managed, but I haven’t the slightest idea of who planned or executed it. Anyway, when I get through, if Ross or Tessie had any hand in it, they will talk better than if they were subjected to the third degree. I am talking of murder now; when I am through, it will be your affair to bring the guilty person to justice.”