The Teeth of the Tiger | Page 9

"Your own words, Monsieur le Préfet."
"My own words? What do you mean?"
"I will tell you, Monsieur le Préfet. You began by saying that Cosmo
Mornington had taken up medicine and practised it with great skill;
next, you said that he had given himself an injection which, carelessly
administered, set up inflammation and caused his death within a few
hours."
"Yes."
"Well, Monsieur le Préfet, I maintain that a man who practises
medicine with great skill and who is accustomed to treating sick people,
as Cosmo Mornington was, is incapable of giving himself a
hypodermic injection without first taking every necessary antiseptic
precaution. I have seen Cosmo at work, and I know how he set about
things."
"Well?"
"Well, the doctor just wrote a certificate as any doctor will when there
is no sort of clue to arouse his suspicions."
"So your opinion is--"
"Maître Lepertuis," asked Perenna, turning to the solicitor, "did you
notice nothing unusual when you were summoned to Mr. Mornington's
death-bed?"
"No, nothing. Mr. Mornington was in a state of coma."

"It's a strange thing in itself," observed Don Luis, "that an injection,
however badly administered, should produce such rapid results. Were
there no signs of suffering?"
"No ... or rather, yes.... Yes, I remember the face showed brown
patches which I did not see on the occasion of my first visit."
"Brown patches? That confirms my supposition Cosmo Mornington
was poisoned."
"But how?" exclaimed the Prefect.
"By some substance introduced into one of the phials of
glycero-phosphate, or into the syringe which the sick man employed."
"But the doctor?" M. Desmalions objected.
"Maître Lepertuis," Perenna continued, "did you call the doctor's
attention to those brown patches?"
"Yes, but he attached no importance to them."
"Was it his ordinary medical adviser?"
"No, his ordinary medical adviser, Doctor Pujol, who happens to be a
friend of mine and who had recommended me to him as a solicitor, was
ill. The doctor whom I saw at his death-bed must have been a local
practitioner."
"I have his name and address here," said the Prefect of Police, who had
turned up the certificate. "Doctor Bellavoine, 14 Rue d'Astorg."
"Have you a medical directory, Monsieur le Préfet?"
M. Desmalions opened a directory and turned over the pages. Presently
he declared:
"There is no Doctor Bellavoine; and there is no doctor living at 14 Rue
d'Astorg."

CHAPTER TWO
A MAN DEAD
The declaration was followed by a silence of some length. The
Secretary of the American Embassy and the Peruvian attaché had
followed the conversation with eager interest. Major d'Astrignac
nodded his head with an air of approval. To his mind, Perenna could
not be mistaken.
The Prefect of Police confessed:
"Certainly, certainly ... we have a number of circumstances here ... that
are fairly ambiguous.... Those brown patches; that doctor.... It's a case
that wants looking into." And, questioning Don Luis Perenna as though
in spite of himself, he asked, "No doubt, in your opinion, there is a
possible connection between the murder ... and Mr. Mornington's will?"
"That, Monsieur le Préfet, I cannot tell. If there is, we should have to
suppose that the contents of the will were known. Do you think they
can have leaked out, Maître Lepertuis?"
"I don't think so, for Mr. Mornington seemed to behave with great
caution."
"And there's no question, is there, of any indiscretion committed in
your office?"
"By whom? No one handled the will except myself; and I alone have
the key of the safe in which I put away documents of that importance
every evening."
"The safe has not been broken into? There has been no burglary at your
office?"
"No."
"You saw Cosmo Mornington in the morning?"

"Yes, on a Friday morning."
"What did you do with the will until the evening, until you locked it
away up your safe?"
"I probably put it in the drawer of my desk."
"And the drawer was not forced?"
Maître Lepertuis seemed taken aback and made no reply.
"Well?" asked Perenna.
"Well, yes, I remember ... there was something that day ... that same
Friday."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. When I came in from lunch I noticed that the drawer was not
locked, although I had locked it beyond the least doubt. At the time I
attached comparatively little importance to the incident. To-day, I
understand, I understand--"
Thus, little by little, were all the suppositions conceived by Don Luis
verified: suppositions resting, it is true, upon just one or two clues, but
yet containing an amount of intuition, of divination, that was really
surprising in a man who had been present at none of the events between
which he traced the connection so skilfully.
"We will lose no time, Monsieur," said the Prefect of Police, "in
checking your statements, which you will