During this colloquy I had been rapidly casting my eye over the collection that still awaited examination, and my attention had been almost at once arrested by an empty bottle near the end of the row. It looked to me like the exact counterpart of the bottle which had been found in the library; a cylindrical bottle of about the capacity of half a pint, or rather less, and like the other, labelled in printed characters “Benzine.”
But mine was not the only eye that had observed it. Presently, I saw the sergeant pick it up—out of its turn—scrutinize it suspiciously, hold it up to the light, take out the cork and smell both it and the bottle, and then, directing the latter, telescope-fashion, towards the window, inspect the bottom by peering in through the mouth. Finally, he clapped in the cork with some emphasis, and with a glance full of meaning handed the bottle to the superintendent.
The latter repeated the procedure in even more detail. When he had finished, he turned to Madeline with a distinctly inquisitorial air.
“This bottle, Miss Norris,” said he, “is labelled ‘Benzine.’ But it was not benzine that it contained. Will you kindly smell it and tell me what you think it did contain. Or perhaps you can say off-hand.”
“I am afraid I can’t,” she replied. “I have no recollection of having had any benzine and I don’t remember this bottle at all. As it is in my cupboard I suppose I must have put it there, but I don’t remember having ever seen it before. I can’t tell you anything about it.”
“Well, will you kindly smell it and tell me what you think it contained?” the superintendent persisted, handing her the open bottle. She took it from him apprehensively, and, holding it to her nose, took a deep sniff; and instantly her already pale face became dead white to the very lips.
“It smells of lavender,” she said in a faint voice.
“So I thought,” said Miller. “And now, Miss Norris, if you will look in at the mouth of the bottle against the light you will see a faint red ring round the bottom. Apparently, the liquid that the bottle contained was a red liquid. Moreover, if you hold the bottle against the light and look through the label, you can see the remains of another label under it. There is only a tiny scrap of it left, but it is enough for us to see that it was a red label. So it would seem that the liquid was a poisonous liquid—poisonous enough to require a red poison label. And then you notice that this red poison label seems to have been scraped off and the benzine label stuck on over the place where it had been, although, as the lavender smell and the red stain clearly show, the bottle never had any benzine in it at all. Now, Miss Norris, bearing those facts in mind, I ask you if you can tell me what was in that bottle.”
“I have told you,” Madeline replied with unexpected firmness, “that I know nothing about this bottle. I have no recollection of ever having seen it before. I do not believe that it ever belonged to me. It may have been in the cupboard when I first began to use it. At any rate, I am not able to tell you anything about it.”
The superintendent continued to look at her keenly, still holding the bottle. After a few moments’ silence he persisted: