Therefore, it could easily be proved that young James Telford was in New York all afternoon. Slade knew well how alibis could be arranged.
The liquid that Slade had poured into the glass was a strong, tasteless poison. Slade had used it on previous occasions.
There would be good reason for the investigators of Telford's death to suppose that Telford had been poisoned prior to his return to Long Island. The poison was a subtle one. Its action and its effects had been puzzling to investigators in the past.
Martin Slade had no qualms at all about the outcome. Too often had he resorted to such evil measures. Right now, he had a very simple course to follow. The old housekeeper had gone out. He could wait ten minutes — or fifteen. By that time, Thomas Telford would be dead. Then a visit to the room where the old man lay.
Slade could picture the body now, slumped on the floor, by the desk. He must make a get-away with the telltale glass, and that statement that Telford had prepared. Then all would be well. As for the future, Slade was sure that he could bluff it out as James Telford. He was a man of cool nerve — of persuasive speech that had often deceived the shrewdest detectives. He had taken a drastic step, but it had been necessary. By his deed, he had saved himself and his associates from exposure — exposure which would certainly have clipped the schemes of Rajah Brahman and his chief.
With brain working rapidly, Slade strolled downstairs at the end of ten minutes. He knew that this news would come as a bombshell to his associates, but it was the only way by which destruction could have been averted, Slade felt that he deserved congratulations for his prompt effort. He was at the door of the room. He opened it softly. He looked about, expecting to see the body of Thomas Telford. But the room was empty!
Slade stared, bewildered, toward the desk. There was the glass, half empty. Thomas Telford had drunk the poison and had left the house!
Slade cursed himself for having remained in the back room upstairs. He should have been on watch!
Then he smiled. He saw the typewritten paper still on the desk. If Telford had taken it with him, the situation would have been bad. But Telford had left it here. That meant sure success for Slade. Slade realized that the effects of the poison, while deadly, were slower with some persons than with others. As a result, Thomas Telford had survived longer than anticipated.
There was no telling where he might be now. On his way toward the station, perhaps. He might be lying beside the road, dead.