The Red Seal [70]
Stone's remarks about aconitine - which I overheard," he interpolated. "I gather the doctor is tolerably familiar with the action of the drug. Does aconitine kill instantly, doctor?"
Stone cleared his throat before speaking. "No; the fatal period averages about four hours," he said, and Rochester's eyes sparkled as he looked up at the detective.
"Jimmie died almost immediately after I handed him that drink of water," he declared. "If you wish to know who administered that aconitine poison, you will have to find out who Jimmie was with at the McIntyre house in the early hours of Tuesday morning."
The sharp imperative ring of the telephone bell cut the silence which followed. Kent, standing nearest the instrument, picked it up, and recognized Sylvester's voice over the wire.
"A message has just come, Mr. Kent," he called, "from Mrs. Brewster saying that she will be in your office at four o'clock."
CHAPTER XIX
THE RED SEAL AGAIN
Harry Kent inserted his key in his office door with more vigor than good judgment, and spent some seconds in re-adjusting it in the lock. Once inside the office he put up the latch and closed the door. A glance around the empty office showed him that Sylvester had obeyed his telephone instructions and gone out to luncheon.
Kent noted with satisfaction as he put his hat and cane in the coat closet that he had over two hours before Mrs. Brewster's expected arrival; ample time in which to consider in quietude the events of the past few days, and plan for his interview with the pretty widow. He had spent the time between Rochester's sudden reappearance and a hastily swallowed lunch at a downtown caf , in arranging bail for Rochester. Ferguson had proved obdurate and had persisted in taking the lawyer to Police Headquarters.
Dr. Stone had accompanied the trio, and his testimony, supported by two chemists, regarding the time required for aconitine poison to act, had gone far to weaken the detective's case against Rochester.
Rochester, to Kent's unbounded astonishment, had appeared indifferent to the whole proceedings; and to his partner's urgent inquiries as to where he had spent the past four days, and why he had disappeared, he had returned one invariable answer.
"I'll explain in good time, Harry," and it was not until they were leaving Police Headquarters that his apathy vanished.
"When are you to see Mrs. Brewster?" he asked.
"She will be at our office at four o'clock. Say, Phil" - but Rochester, shaking off his detaining hand, darted across the street and sprang into a passing taxi bearing the sign, "For Hire," and that was the last Kent had seen of his elusive partner.
Kent dropped into his chair and glanced askance at the mail piled in neat array on his desk; he was not in a frame of mind to handle routine office business. Other clients would have to wait until later in the day. A memorandum pad, bearing a message in Sylvester's precise penmanship attracted his wandering attention and he picked it up.
"Mr. Kent:" he read. "Colonel McIntyre called just after I talked with you on the 'phone; he waited in your office for half an hour, then left, stating he would come back. Miss Barbara McIntyre called immediately afterwards, but would not wait more than five minutes. Mr. Clymer came as she was going out and left a note on your desk. I will return soon. "SYLVESTER."
Kent laid down the pad and picked up a twisted three-cornered note bearing his name in pencil. Unfolding it, he scanned the hurriedly written lines:
"Dear Kent - McIntyre telephoned there were new developments in the Turnbull affair. Will be back later."Yours - "B. A. CLYMER."
Kent judged from the use of his initials that Clymer was stirred out of his ordinary calm, nothing else explained his failure to sign his full name, and he wondered what confidences McIntyre had made to the bank president.
Tossing down the note, Kent lighted his pipe, tilted back in his swivel chair, and
Stone cleared his throat before speaking. "No; the fatal period averages about four hours," he said, and Rochester's eyes sparkled as he looked up at the detective.
"Jimmie died almost immediately after I handed him that drink of water," he declared. "If you wish to know who administered that aconitine poison, you will have to find out who Jimmie was with at the McIntyre house in the early hours of Tuesday morning."
The sharp imperative ring of the telephone bell cut the silence which followed. Kent, standing nearest the instrument, picked it up, and recognized Sylvester's voice over the wire.
"A message has just come, Mr. Kent," he called, "from Mrs. Brewster saying that she will be in your office at four o'clock."
CHAPTER XIX
THE RED SEAL AGAIN
Harry Kent inserted his key in his office door with more vigor than good judgment, and spent some seconds in re-adjusting it in the lock. Once inside the office he put up the latch and closed the door. A glance around the empty office showed him that Sylvester had obeyed his telephone instructions and gone out to luncheon.
Kent noted with satisfaction as he put his hat and cane in the coat closet that he had over two hours before Mrs. Brewster's expected arrival; ample time in which to consider in quietude the events of the past few days, and plan for his interview with the pretty widow. He had spent the time between Rochester's sudden reappearance and a hastily swallowed lunch at a downtown caf , in arranging bail for Rochester. Ferguson had proved obdurate and had persisted in taking the lawyer to Police Headquarters.
Dr. Stone had accompanied the trio, and his testimony, supported by two chemists, regarding the time required for aconitine poison to act, had gone far to weaken the detective's case against Rochester.
Rochester, to Kent's unbounded astonishment, had appeared indifferent to the whole proceedings; and to his partner's urgent inquiries as to where he had spent the past four days, and why he had disappeared, he had returned one invariable answer.
"I'll explain in good time, Harry," and it was not until they were leaving Police Headquarters that his apathy vanished.
"When are you to see Mrs. Brewster?" he asked.
"She will be at our office at four o'clock. Say, Phil" - but Rochester, shaking off his detaining hand, darted across the street and sprang into a passing taxi bearing the sign, "For Hire," and that was the last Kent had seen of his elusive partner.
Kent dropped into his chair and glanced askance at the mail piled in neat array on his desk; he was not in a frame of mind to handle routine office business. Other clients would have to wait until later in the day. A memorandum pad, bearing a message in Sylvester's precise penmanship attracted his wandering attention and he picked it up.
"Mr. Kent:" he read. "Colonel McIntyre called just after I talked with you on the 'phone; he waited in your office for half an hour, then left, stating he would come back. Miss Barbara McIntyre called immediately afterwards, but would not wait more than five minutes. Mr. Clymer came as she was going out and left a note on your desk. I will return soon. "SYLVESTER."
Kent laid down the pad and picked up a twisted three-cornered note bearing his name in pencil. Unfolding it, he scanned the hurriedly written lines:
"Dear Kent - McIntyre telephoned there were new developments in the Turnbull affair. Will be back later."Yours - "B. A. CLYMER."
Kent judged from the use of his initials that Clymer was stirred out of his ordinary calm, nothing else explained his failure to sign his full name, and he wondered what confidences McIntyre had made to the bank president.
Tossing down the note, Kent lighted his pipe, tilted back in his swivel chair, and