“Where were you?”
“On the spot. That is, I was here when Tatters got his death. I had gone to the wash-room at the farther end of the hall when Rags was poisoned.”
“Why do you say poisoned?”
“What else could it have been? There was no wound on either of the dogs.”
“Was there evidence of poison?”
“Pathological only. In Tatters case it was very marked. He was dozing in a corner near the radiator when I heard him yelp and saw him snapping at his belly. He ran across the room, lay down and began licking himself. Within fifteen minutes he began to whine. Then he stiffened out in a sort of a spasm. It was like strychnine poisoning. Before could get a veterinary here he was dead.”
“Did you make any examination?”
“I analyzed the contents of his stomach, but did not obtain positive results.”
“What about the other dog?”
“Rags? That was the day before yesterday. We had just come over from Flatbush and Razs was nosing around in the corner—”