“Then you contend that the absence of such a receptacle indicates the presence of another person in the smoking car at the time Tilghman swallowed the poison?”
“I do. Dr. Shively said the poison was almost instantaneous in its effect and that it was physically impossible for Tilghman to dispose of the, eh, cup or glass, after he had swallowed the poison. Therefore another person must have been in the car, contrary to the porter’s testimony, and,” his voice deepening, “the fact that such a person does not come forward frankly, as he would do if innocent, presupposes his guilt.”
McLane nodded his head. “I entirely agree with your reasoning,” he said gravely. “I asked simply to see if your view would coincide with mine. Dwight Tilghman was undoubtedly murdered while sitting in the smoking car of the Washington, New Orleans, and San Francisco Express during its stop at the station in Atlanta, Ga. The autopsy proved that a dose of oxalic acid had been administered in brandy, and that he died almost instantly. No other cause of death could be ascertained, as Tilghman was physically well, and there was no indication of violence.”
“But,” Barclay hesitated and spoke more slowly, “oxalic acid has a forbidding, sour taste, and for that reason is seldom used by would-be murderers, the victim being quick to detect the acid taste. The medical records prove that it is sometimes mistaken for Epsom salts and swallowed inadvertently, and not infrequently used by suicides,” he looked hard at McLane. “If not taken accidentally, or with suicidal intent, Tilghman must have detected the taste of the poison in the brandy.”
“True.” McLane leaned one elbow on his desk as he bent nearer his companion. “I have already stated that Tilghman was physically sound, but from birth he was deficient in one particular—he had no sense of taste.”
“Upon my word!”
Barclay drew in his breath sharply and stared at McLane in astonishment.
“Tilghman had no motive to commit suicide,” continued McLane. “I was made executor of his will, and his affairs appear to be in excellent shape. While not wealthy, Tilghman had several thousand dollars in the bank, besides owning much unencumbered improved property. He was not married, and I never heard of his having a love affair, or a quarrel with anyone.”
“And yet he died mysteriously,” muttered Barclay. “Eliminating the theory of suicide and considering the case as a murder, pure and simple——”
“It’s far from simple,” corrected McLane sharply. “Here we have a man seated in an empty smoking car poisoned by some unknown person, and the murder not discovered until five or six hours later—no trace of the receptacle in which the poison was administered, and the passengers on the train now scattered to the far winds.”