At that moment Markham was summoned to the telephone. When he returned his expression was puzzled and uneasy.
“It was Swacker. Von Blon is at my office now—he has something to tell me.”
“Ah! Very interestin’,” commented Vance.
We drove to the District Attorney’s office, and Von Blon was shown in at once.
“I may be stirring up a mare’s nest,” he began apologetically, after he had seated himself on the edge of a chair. “But I felt I ought to inform you of a curious thing that happened to me this morning. At first I thought I would tell the police, but it occurred to me they might misunderstand; and I decided to place the matter before you to act upon as you saw fit.”
Plainly he was uncertain as to how the subject should be broached, and Markham waited patiently with an air of polite indulgence.
“I phoned the Greene house as soon as I made the—ah—discovery,” Von Blon went on hesitantly. “But I was informed you had left for the office; so, as soon as I had lunched, I came directly here.”
“Very good of you, doctor,” murmured Markham.
Again Von Blon hesitated, and his manner became exaggeratedly ingratiating.
“The fact is, Mr. Markham, I am in the habit of carrying a rather full supply of emergency drugs in my medicine-case. . . .”