“No, sir, he was much weakened, and didn't regain his strength. He looked to me as if gradually wasting away.”
“Why, so he was, I suppose, Norris. There is nothing but what is perfectly natural in all this; yet you seem suspicious.”
“I hope he has been fairly treated, sir.”
“Why should you think otherwise?”
“Because he has symptoms that I don't exactly like, sir.”
Then lowering his voice, as if afraid to speak the words aloud, he added, “It looks to me almost like a case of slow poisoning!”
Chetwynd seemed horror-stricken at the idea.
“You must be mistaken, Norris,” he said. “It cannot he. Whatever opinion I may entertain of the person it is evident you suspect, I am certain she is incapable of such a monstrous crime. Have you mentioned your suspicions to Doctor Spencer, or any one else?”
“I told Doctor Spencer I thought it a very strange illness, but he said there was nothing unusual in it—it was simply the result of a bad cold. 'It was quite impossible,' he said, 'that Mr. Calverley could be more carefully attended to than by his wife. She had really kept him alive.' I don't know what he would have said if I had ventured to breathe a word against her.”
“Did you warn my father? It was your duty to do so, if you really believed he was being poisoned.”