The other smiled—a superior smile. “The moment I learned that Garlett was to be arrested I got a call through to our London agents and I secured Sir Harold Anstey.”
“The man who got Mrs. Panford off?”
“Of course! He’s the greatest of living advocates, and at first I was afraid there was going to be a hitch. The man’s so gorged with money and success that he can pick and choose his cases——”
Dr. Maclean looked uncomfortable.
“Surely you don’t think we could have done better?” asked the lawyer, nettled.
“I suppose not—and yet, Toogood, only last week I read somewhere that Anstey’s nickname is ‘the murderer’s friend.’ We don’t want to condemn Garlett beforehand, eh?”
Mr. Toogood leaned forward.
“It will take the whole of Sir Harold Anstey’s wit and skill to save our man from the gallows. Make no mistake about that! Still, there’s one hopeful feature. I’ve found out—unofficially, of course—that the Crown people have been in touch with every chemist in every place where our friend ever played cricket in the last ten years! But they’ve found nothing.”
“Then they haven’t traced arsenic in any form to Garlett’s possession?” asked the doctor eagerly.
“So far that’s the one missing link—and a very important link it is! By the way, you’ve never had a dispensary, have you?”