“Now, doctor,” he began, and his manner gained in seriousness, “what, in your opinion, killed Jimmie Turnbull?”
“The post-mortem examination proved that he had swallowed aconitine in sufficient quantity to cause death,” Stone replied. “He undoubtedly died from the effects of that poison.”
“Is aconitine difficult to procure?” asked Kent.
“It is often prescribed for fevers.” Stone made himself comfortable in a near-by chair. “Aconitine is the alkaloid of aconite. I believe that in India it is frequently employed, not only for the destruction of wild beasts, but for criminal purposes. The India variety is known as the Bish poison.”
Kent started—Bish poison—was he never to get away from the letter “B”?
“Can you procure Bish in this country?” he asked.
Stone considered the question. “You might be able to purchase it from some Hindoo residing or traveling in the United States,” he said, after a pause. “I doubt if you could buy it in a drug store.”
Kent heaved a sigh of relief as he hitched his chair closer to the physician.
“Did you prescribe a dose of aconitine for Mrs. Brewster recently?” he asked.
“I did, for an attack of rheumatic neuralgia.” Stone eyed him curiously. “What then, Kent?”