room," Sencort repeated, "and found all in order."
"All was in order over at Ed Costrelman's the other night, not only before but after the—the occurrence," Teverson mentioned in a thoughtful sort of brooding manner which sparked up old Sencort.
"What occurrence?" he came back loudly; of course Teverson had the door shut after him.
"Good Lord," said Teverson, "didn't you know that Ed Costrelman's dead?"
"Certainly," said Sencort. "I also know that his butler is dead and most of his party was sick but have recovered; from something wrong in the wine or vermuth. What has that to do with us? We're not serving liqueur at directors' meeting."
"It wasn't in the wine or vermuth," Teverson came back calmly. "It wasn't in the food either; everything they'd drunk or tasted has been analyzed. Everything, I tell you, was in order."
"What was it, then?" Sencort went at him, still with more impatience than interest. "Simultaneous, group indigestion?
"A poison, a definite, lethal agent, reached Costrelman and the butler—Swan—in fatal
