“Yes. The blood was coagulated and on the upper lip he found a circle of small pustules. He agreed that both dogs probably swallowed something that was left in my office, though I don’t see how it could have got there.”
“That won’t do,” returned Average Jones positively. “A dog doesn’t cry out when he swallows poison, unless it’s some corrosive.”
“It was no corrosive. I examined the mouth.”
“What about the radiator?” asked Average Jones, getting down on his knees beside that antiquated contrivance. “It seems to have been the center of disturbance.”
“If you’re thinking of fumes,” replied the chemist. “I tested for that. It isn’t possible.”
“No; I suppose not. And yet, there’s the curious feature that the fatal influence seems to have emanated from the corner which is the most remote from both windows and door. Are your windows left open at night?”
“The windows, sometimes. The transom is kept double-bolted.”
“Do they face any other windows near by?”
“You can see for yourself that they don’t.”
“There’s no fire-escape and it’s too far up for anything to come in from the street.” Average examined the walls with attention and returned to the big keyhole, through which he peeped.