I sprang to my feet, and thrust him aside. I think I never saw a man so astonished in all his life as he was, to see me alert and quick and clear-eyed. "That's all you know about the business," I said. "I'm more sober than either of you. Now, hold your tongue, and wait; I've a word to say to Bardolph Just, and it won't keep."
Bardolph Just opened the door at that moment, and came in. By that time I was standing, with my hands in my pockets, watching him, and something in my face and in my attitude seemed to give him pause; he stopped just inside the door, staring at me. Harvey Scoffold looked from one to the other of us, as though wondering what game was afoot.
"Now, Dr. Bardolph Just," I said, "I'll trouble you for that phial. It's in your right-hand trouser pocket. Pass it over."
Instead of complying with that request, he suddenly sucked in a deep breath, and made a rush at me. But he had mistaken his man; I caught him squarely on the jaw with my fist, and he went down at my feet. After a moment or two he looked up at me, sitting there foolishly enough on the floor, and began to tell me what he thought of me.
"You dog! So this is the way you repay my kindness to you, is it?" he muttered. "You scum of a jail!—this is what I get for befriending you."
"Never mind about me," I retorted, "we'll come to my case presently. Just now I want to talk about Miss Debora Matchwick, and I want to know exactly what it was you put into the wine destined for her to-night."
"You're mad!" he said, getting slowly to his feet, and looking at me in a frightened way.
"No, I'm not mad; nor am I drunk," I retorted. "You and the woman Leach thought you were safe enough; look at me now, and tell me how much you think I have seen. Your fine words mean nothing; murder's your game, and you know it!"
All this time Harvey Scoffold had said nothing; he had merely looked from one to the other of us, with something like a growing alarm in his face. But now he stepped forward as though he would understand the matter better, or would at least put an end to the scene.
"My dear Just, and you, Norton Hyde, what does all this mean? Can't you be reasonable, and talk over the matter like gentlemen. What's this talk of phials and stuff put into wine, and murder, and what not?"