It took a long time for this to get into my brain in plausible shape.
"Prospero—dead?" I puzzled.
"Yes, dear."
"But there was nothing poisonous in the fumes of the Texas formula—only an aromatic oil to deceive meddlers."
"Prospero used that oil as a solvent for the poison—you see, Ted, I've been studying chemistry too—I shall read you the analysis we had made, tomorrow."
"Analysis—then you've found out the Texas formula?"
"Yes, Ted. It's all right—the factory is making it now."
"Did you work it out?" I asked—the puzzle was only slowly unravelling.
"No, dear—my chemistry hasn't gone that far! The young assistant Knowlton got from the Owens' Company did it."
"And the poison?"