Part 15 (1/2)

The doctor tapped with his fingers on his hat, as if he was beating a funeral march. Then, quickly:

”No, sir; the more I study this case, the more I feel convinced that he was not.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A CLEVER DIPLOMATIST.

”Doctor Heston, you surprise me. There was the inquest.”

”Yes, where my opinion, sir, was overruled by the coroner and my colleague, both elderly medical men, sir, while I am young and comparatively inexperienced. You are disposed to think that this is a case of professional jealousy.”

”I will be frank with you. I did think so.”

”Exactly, but pray disabuse your mind. I am not jealous. I am angry with myself for giving way in that case. It seemed all very straightforward, but it was not.”

”May I ask what you mean?”

”I mean, sir, that I am certain that our poor old Indian friend did not die from the blow that he received from that life-preserver.”

”How then?” said Capel, huskily.

”It seems to me that he must have been poisoned in some way or another, and I could not rest without coming to you.”

”Oh, impossible.”

”Perhaps so, sir, but I am telling you what I believe. Do you think he had any enemies here?”

”Oh, no; the servants seemed to have been on friendly terms.”

”Well, it hardly seems like it.”

”That wretch must have yielded to a terrible temptation,” said Capel, ”and the other was defending his master's goods.”

”What goods?” said the doctor.

Capel was silent.

”I see, sir, there is more mystery about this than you care to explain.

Was there some heavy sum of money in the late Colonel's room, and were these two men in league?”

”I don't think they were in league.”

”Was any one else interested in the matter?”

”Oh, no; impossible,” said Capel, half aloud. ”Dr Heston, I am afraid there is a good deal of imagination in what you say. Let me try and disabuse your mind.”

”I should be glad if you could.”

Capel paced the room for a few minutes.