“Yes, but who administered the poison? How? Where?”
Glover shrugged his shoulders.
“They haven’t figured that out, yet,” he said.
“I believe they have discovered the nature of the poison,” declared Matthew Wade, the multimillionaire.
“That, at least, is one step in the right direction.”
“How does that help?” asked Hotchkiss.
“Certain poisons are peculiar to certain countries,” said Wade. “This one, from the description I have read, resembles a very virulent, but little-used, poison found in India. I heard of such a poison during my last visit to Bombay, when I was cruising around the world on one of your ships, Glover.”
“I think you are mistaken there, Wade,” came a quiet voice. The speaker was Lamont Cranston, like Wade, a gentleman of leisure reputed to possess great wealth. “I have not only heard of poisons; I have studied them. Farmington’s death indicates that he tasted a poison similar to the li-shun, a deadly product of Mongolia. It does not take effect immediately; when it does, it is extremely rapid.”
Matthew Wade shrugged his shoulders. He was an indolent man, who had inherited much of his money, and who had spent long periods of time in foreign countries. He was not one to discuss technicalities, although he had a somewhat challenging disposition.
“I’ll take your word for it, Cranston,” he replied. “I guess you’ve traveled as much as I have. I spent most of my time on big-game hunts in India. But I was too busy to study the Oriental methods of artistic assassination.”