“You mean——”
“I mean that you know, of course, of what the antidote consists,” Nick cut in again. “Otherwise, you would not have used it. That is a logical conclusion, isn’t it?”
“Perfectly—if your premises are correct.”
Doctor Devoll did not appear at all disturbed. If these unexpected discoveries of the detective alarmed him, he did not betray the fact. Only the gleam that shone in his narrow eyes was steadily becoming brighter—and Nick saw and rightly interpreted it.
“They are correct, doctor, all right,” he replied a bit grimly. “If you——”
“Wait!” Doctor Devoll spoke more suavely. “I now see what you meant, Mr. Carter, and at what you are driving. I beg to assure you, too, that I would be very glad to aid you in this matter or give you any information I possess.”
“I had no doubt of that, of course,” Nick said dryly.
“I hope not.” Doctor Devoll smiled again. “But why do you infer that the restorative I used was the same as that given to Mrs. Thurlow. I may have employed only an ordinary stimulant.”
“I doubt that an ordinary stimulant would have been effective,” the detective returned. “Furthermore, a policeman who was present in the case of the last girl saw you saturate a sponge with an amber-colored fluid poured from a small fluted vial. Here is one like it, Doctor Devoll. You may recognize it.”
Doctor Devoll’s nerve did not weaken for an instant. He merely glanced at the vial Nick was displaying, and said blandly: