general air of competency. She greeted Heath with a companionable wave of the hand and bowed to the rest of us with aloof formality.
"Doc Drumm can't leave his patient just now," she informed us, seating herself. "So he sent me along. He'll be down presently."
"And what's the report?" Markham was still standing.
"She'll live, I guess. We've been giving her passive exercise and artificial breathing for half an hour, and the doc hopes to have her walking before long."
Markham, his nervousness somewhat abated, sat down again.
"Tell us all you can, Miss O'Brien. Was there any evidence as to how the poison was administered?"
"Nothing but an empty bouillon cup." The woman was ill at ease. "I guess you'll find remains of morphine in it, all right."
"Why do you think the drug was given by means of the bouillon?"
She hesitated and shot Heath an uneasy look.
"It's this way. I always bring a cup of bouillon to Mrs. Greene a little before eleven in the morning; and if Miss Ada's around I bring two cups—that's the old lady's orders. This morning the girl was in the room when I went down to the kitchen, so I brought up two cups. But Mrs. Greene was alone when I returned, so I gave the old lady hers and put the other cup in Miss Ada's room on the table by the bed. Then I went into the hall to call her. She was down-stairs—in the living-room, I guess. Anyhow, she came up right away, and, as I had some mend-
