“Fortunately?” repeated Fielding. “Hardly fortunate from my point of view!”
“Did I say fortunately?” inquired Randall. “I meant unfortunately, of course.”
“Happily the tonic was not made up at the dispensary,” said Fielding.
“No, I didn't expect that it would be,” said Randall.
Fielding's jaw became a shade more prominent. “Moreover,” he said, “nicotine is hardly a poison which a doctor would use, as you, with your medical training, of course, know, Matthews.”
Randall had been gazing meditatively through his windscreen, but he turned his head at that, and said with a crooked smile: “So you know that, do you?”
“Oh yes!” said Fielding. “Your uncle mentioned it once some time ago. He said that you were a most promising student, but that you abandoned the career when your father died.”
“And have you passed this information on to the police?” asked Randall.
“No,” said Fielding. “I did not consider it any business of mine.”
Randall leaned forward, and switched on his engine again. “Well, you should,” he said. “Superintendent Hannasyde would love it.”