appearance that I went to the door and watched him cross the road."
"And in which direction did he go?"
"Over to Podgers' chemist shop across the way. That was the last I saw of him."
"I'm obliged to you, Mr. Maxwell," I said, shaking him by the hand. "But I'm sorry you can't tell us something more definite about him." Then turning to the inspector: "I suppose we had better go off and find Podgers. But if we have to spend much more time in rushing about like this we shall be certain to lose them altogether."
"Let us be off to Podgers', then, as fast as we can go."
Bidding Mr. Maxwell good-bye, we set off again, and in ten minutes had arrived at the shop and had Mr. Podgers downstairs. We explained our errand as briefly as possible, and gave a minute description of the man we wanted.
"I remember him perfectly," said the sedate Podgers. "He came into my shop last night and purchased a bottle of chloroform."
"You made him sign the poison book, of course."
"Naturally I did, Mr. Inspector. Would you like to see his signature?"
"Very much," we both answered at once, and the book was accordingly produced.
Podgers ran his finger down the list.
"Brown, Williams, Davis—ah! here it is. 'Chloroform: J. Venneage, 22 Calliope Street, Woolahra.'"
"Venneage!" I cried. "Why, that's not his name!"
"Very likely not," replied Podgers; "but it's the name he gave me."
"Never mind, we'll try 22 Calliope Street on the
