“Just what I said.”
Doctor Devoll did not reply immediately. He sat meeting the detective’s searching scrutiny without a sign of flinching. His narrowed eyes were taking on a threatening glint, instead, and he said a bit sharply:
“If you repeat that assertion, Mr. Carter, I will order you out of my apartments. I insist that I know nothing about that letter or about the robbery. If you think I am lying——”
“One moment,” Nick interposed, checking him. “Don’t misunderstand me or go over the traces. You will presently agree with me, Doctor Devoll.”
“Agree with you?”
“You have not forgotten, of course, the four girls found unconscious in the hospital grounds.”
“No, certainly not.”
“You treated all of them successfully, but you let them go without making an investigation. Now, Doctor Devoll, I happen to know that their abnormal condition was due to inhaling a powerful narcotic of some kind from a handkerchief found in a small leather purse or bag.”
“Ah! You know more about it, then, than I do.”
“I know, too, that Mrs. Thurlow was overcome by like means and robbed. I also know that the thief administered an antidote that soon revived her—presumably the same antidote that you administered to the four girls. That is why I said that you know something, at least, about the robbery.”