“All right, but—but won’t they be able to tell that he’s been drugged?”
Nick heard a thin, piping laugh. “You must think me a fool,” Follansbee’s voice returned. “The keenest scent would be incapable of detecting any odor in the room five minutes after that drug is used, and it leaves little or no after effects. Crawford will wake up to-morrow morning without the slightest suspicion that anything has happened to him, and he’ll feel perfectly normal.”
“And what about the—the other?”
“It will not begin to show itself until Monday or Tuesday,” was the confident answer. “And even then the symptoms will be inconclusive. There aren’t half a dozen physicians who would know what they meant in any of the early stages, and by the time any one could authoritatively diagnose the case, the patient would be beyond help. In fact, he’ll be beyond it for all ordinary purposes from the time the serum is introduced into his system, and before the twenty-seventh he’ll be dead.”
CHAPTER XX.
QUICK WORK IS NECESSARY.
“Dead!”
The way in which Stone repeated the word gave a hint to the listener of the grim hatred that possessed that demented brain.
There was a moment’s silence, then Follansbee’s voice came again. “Above all, however,” he said, “remember that you must not be in a hurry. Do everything deliberately and don’t get rattled for a moment. There’s nothing to fear if you keep your nerve. Finally, don’t attempt to carry out your—operations shall we call it?—until half past two.”
“Why should we wait? Why couldn’t we do it now?” Stone urged.