“You are a student of criminology and you have written books on the subject,” Crawford went on. “Did you ever run up against a case of poisoning with prussic acid?”
“Several times,” I replied. “It is a frequent and formidable poison because it is so swift and unerring in its effect. The victim is dead before help can possibly reach him.”
“That is true,” Crawford agreed. “Death may be a matter of seconds, of minutes at most. But, now, tell me, have you met cases in which a man, having taken a dose of prussic acid, lies calmly down and is found as tranquil and orderly in posture as if he had died in his sleep?”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Indeed, I should say the majority of cases were like that. Prussic acid is said to produce convulsion, frothing at the mouth, and so forth. Those do take place, and may in every instance, though there are cases in which no evidence of them remains.”
“Just so,” Crawford agreed, nodding his head. “But, now suppose it were a case of suicide by prussic acid, would you expect to find the bottle near at hand?”
“In nine cases out of ten—yes,” I responded.
“And in the tenth?” he asked eagerly.
“There might have been some other way of administering the poison—wasn’t there a case of prussic acid in chocolates—?”
“Would it be possible for a man who had taken prussic acid to conceal the bottle?”
“Possible, yes, but—”