“Oh, yes, sir, dreadful. He was took badly about two o’clock, and he has been so queer ever since.”
“Dear me,” said the doctor. “Do you know what has caused it?”
“Yes, sir,” said the woman, beginning to sob; “he says it’s those nasty toadstools Master Vane brought, and gave me to cook for his tea. Ah, Master Vane, you shouldn’t have played us such a trick.”
Vane looked appealingly at his uncle, who gave him a reassuring nod.
“You cooked them then?” said the doctor.
“Oh, yes, sir, and we had them for tea, and the nasty things were so nice that we never thought there could be anything wrong.”
“What time do you say your husband was taken ill?”
“About two o’clock, sir.”
“And what time were you taken ill?”
“Me, sir?” said the woman staring. “I haven’t been ill.”