"Especially that part of Mr.
Turnbull's inquest which tells about the post-mortem."
"Well, what then?" asked Barbara quickly as the butler paused and
again glanced up and down the hall.
"Just this, miss," he spoke almost in a whisper. "The doctors do
say poor Mr. Turnbull was poisoned by acca - aconitine," stumbling
over the word. "It's a curious thing, miss, that I brought some of
that very drug into this house last Sunday."
"You did!" Barbara's fresh young voice rose in astonishment.
"Hush, miss!" The butler raised both hands. "Hush!" He glanced
cautiously around, then continued. "Colonel McIntyre sent me to
the druggist with a prescription from Dr. Stone for Mrs. Brewster
when she had romantic neuralgia."
"Had what?" Barbara looked puzzled, then giggled, but her mirth
quickly altered to seriousness at sight of the butler's expression.
"Mrs. Brewster had a touch of rheumatic neuralgia the first of the
month; do you refer to that?"
"Yes, miss." Grimes spoke more rapidly, but kept his voice lowered.
"The druggist told me what the pills were when I exclaimed at their
size - regular little pellets, no bigger than that," he demonstrated
the size with the tip of his little finger, and would have added
more but the gong over the front door rang out with such suddenness
that both he and Barbara started violently.
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