"I don't like telling tales, Sir Richard," I said to him; "but there is a leakage of information about your health. I was asked only yesterday if your brain was queer. Of course I said no, but where did the idea come from? Only your daughter, myself or Fernie could possibly have said anything."
"Then it must be that rascal," he shouted. "Send for him now, I'll show him that he can't play fast and loose with me."
"Gently, Sir Richard, gently," I said. "You must keep calm, sleep on it, and we'll see to-morrow; in the meantime I'll make a few inquiries for you."
He calmed down, and I went home to make preparations for carrying out my scheme.
I proposed, after sowing the seeds of suspicion in the sick man's mind against Fernie, once more to utilize a certain alkaloid and a drug in combination, the effect of which, injected hypodermically, would be to cause in the banker's tottering brain an intense excitement, which would be very likely to take a homicidal form. If, when the effect was at its climax, he should be alone with Fernie, then—well, he was big and still muscular, and the servant would not have a chance, if trouble did come. It was a lovely plan, and
