Matherfield sank his voice to a whisper as he spoke the last word. And Hetherwick, ready though he was for the news, started when he got it—the definiteness of the announcement seemed like opening a window upon a vista of obscured and misty distances. He glanced at the door behind him.
"Of course, they'll have to be told, in there," said Matherfield, interpreting his thoughts. "But the thing's certain. Our surgeon suspected it from the first, and he got a Home Office specialist to help at the autopsy—they say the man was poisoned by some drug or other—I don't understand these things—that had been administered to him two or three hours before he died, and that when it did work, worked with absolutely lightning-like effect."
"Yes," muttered Hetherwick thoughtfully. "Lightning-like effect—good phrase. I can testify that it did that!"
Matherfield laid a hand on the door.
"Well," he said, "I'd better tell these ladies. Then—there are things I want to know from the granddaughter. I've seen her—and her aunt—before this morning. I found out that Hannaford brought up and educated this girl, and that she lived with him in Sellithwaite since she left school, so she'll know more about him than anybody. And I want to learn all I can. Come in with me."
CHAPTER III
THE POTENTIAL FORTUNE
Elder and younger woman alike took Matherfield's intimation quietly. Rhona made no remark. But Mrs. Keeley spoke impulsively.
"There never was a more popular man than he was—with everybody!" she exclaimed. "Who should want to take his life?"