"Immediately after you left the house this morning. The poison was administered in the bouillon the nurse brought from the kitchen."
"But . . . how could that be?" Von Blon appeared unbelieving. "I was just going when she brought the bouillon. I saw her enter with it. How could the poison?"
"That reminds me, doctor." Vance's tone was almost dulcet. "Did you, by any hap, go up-stairs again after you had donned your coat?"
Von Blon looked at him with outraged astonishment.
"Certainly not! I left the house immediately."
"That would have been just after the nurse called down to Ada."
"Why—yes. I believe the nurse did call down; and Ada went up-stairs at once—if I recall correctly."
Vance smoked a moment, his gaze resting curiously on the doctor's troubled face.
"I would suggest, without any intention of being impertinent, that your present visit follows rather closely upon your former one."
Von Blon's face clouded over, but I failed to detect any resentment in his expression.
"Quite true," he rejoined, and shifted his eyes. "The fact is, sir, that ever since those drugs disappeared from my case I've felt that something tragic was impending, and that I was in some way to blame. Whenever I'm in this neighborhood I can't resist the impulse to call here and—and see how things are going."
"Your anxiety is wholly understandable." Vance's
