bill of health he had little cause to complain. The fact is, I was so astounded with what I had just read concerning Fahbwerker that I could think of little else; and when at the close of the evening's work I learnt that Mrs. Walland had gone out to a concert, I felt inexpressibly thankful at the opportunity to think over my discovery in quiet. That a man who only six weeks ago was in the best of health should suddenly and without cause develop an acute form of heart disease which proved rapidly fatal, was certainly remarkable. I was still worrying over the mystery, when there came an urgent call elsewhere; and as I cycled past Heath Crest and glanced up at the windows, with never a glimmer of light in any of them, I regretted the lateness of the hour which alone prevented me from calling on Mrs. Fahbwerker so that I might clear up some of the doubts which troubled me. My visit was to a poor creature in the last stage of phthisis. When I got to the house I found there had been profuse hemorrhage from the lungs, and was annoyed to find that in the hurry of attending to Fahbwerker that morning the very drug which I now wanted to use must have dropped from my pocket hypodermic case. At least the tiny bottle was missing, and as the patient was practically bleeding to death, I ran on to Walland's chemist, who was fortunately close at hand.
"I hear that Mr. Fahbwerker died tonight," observed the chemist.
I had replenished my case, and was about to hurry back, when the remark, made with all the urbanity of the man's calling, arrested me; for, in spite of my present errand, the dead man was still uppermost in my thoughts.
"Yes, it was rather sudden," I admitted.
"I can't say I am altogether surprised," observed the chemist.
"Why? He always had very good health," said I, ingenuously.
"Yes; but look at the way he was always drugging himself."
"Drugging himself?"
"Yes. Why, there was hardly a day that Mrs. Fahbwerker wasn't in here for something or other for him."
"Indeed! What sort of drugs?"
"Oh, antipyrin principally."
"Did she say what she wanted it for?"
"She was always talking about the dreadful headaches her husband used to have, and I was always warning her against antipyrin."
As I listened, I was conscious of a species of vertigo, so impetuous was the rush of ideas; but, recovering myself, I bade the chemist a hasty "good-night," and ran back to the patient.
All the way along the rays of every streetlamp seemed to form the word "antipyrin." When I bared the patient's arm the blue veins traced it on the skin; when I looked away the lines of the hideous wall-paper grouped to spell it there also; and later on, when I had climbed wearily to bed, I still saw it through my closed eyelids. Yes, it was all plain enough now that it was too late to save him. Fahbwerker must have been killed by an overdose of antipyrin—perhaps the most fatally depressing drug known to medicine. The symptoms were conclusive, and I marvelled how so simple a case could have puzzled me so much.
After a night during which I hardly slept an hour altogether, I rose early, intending to call on Mrs. Fahbwerker and explain her criminal folly in assisting her husband in his lavish physicking. I also wanted to get the death certificate from her before she had registered it, since it was clear there would have to be an inquest. But one thing after another conspired to delay me, and it had gone noon before I reached Heath Crest. The place looked very sombre with its drawn blinds, and the servant spoke in the hushed voice peculiar to a household which death has visited. She was doubtful whether Mrs. Fahbwerker would see me; her mistress was at home to no one, but she would inquire if the prohibition extended to me. In a few minutes she returned and showed me to a room, where, indeed, I could hear the voice of Mrs. Fahbwerker as she greeted me, although her figure was a mere suggestion in the gloom of the drawn blinds.
"I am sorry to intrude upon you at such a time, Mrs. Fahbwerker," said I, "but I am afraid I shall have to withdraw the death certificate I gave you last night."
"I don't quite understand you, doctor," came the voice from the other side of the room, with just a little tremor in the tones.
"I have been thinking the matter over, and the certificate no longer expresses my conscientious opinion as to the cause of Mr. Fahbwerker's death."
There was no answer, but I caught the sound of her rapid breathing.
"I was very puzzled all along by your husband's illness," I continued, "and if I had been less busy when you called last night,
