“Stock-Orchard Crescent, Holloway,” Thorndyke explained. “Oh, yes. I remember him. Well, how is he?” “He’s dead,” replied Thorndyke. “Is he really?” exclaimed Halbury. “Now that shows how careful one should be in one’s judgments. I half suspected that fellow of malingering. He was supposed to have a dilated heart, but I couldn’t make out any appreciable dilatation. There was excited, irregular action. That was all. I had a suspicion that he had been dosing himself with trinitrine. Reminded me of the cases of cordite chewing that I used to meet with in South Africa. So he’s dead, after all. Well, it’s queer. Do you know what the exact cause of death was?” “Failure of a dilated heart is the cause stated on the certificates--the body was cremated; and the ‘C’ Certificate was signed by you.” “By me!” exclaimed the physician. “Nonsense! It’s a mistake. I signed a certificate for a Friendly Society--Mrs. Ingle brought it here for me to sign--but I didn’t even know he was dead. Besides, I went away for my holiday a few days after I saw the man, and only came back yesterday. What makes you think I signed the death certificate?” Thorndyke produced Stalker’s précis and handed it to Halbury, who read out his own name and address with a puzzled frown. “This is an extraordinary affair,” said he. “It will have to be looked into.” “It will, indeed,” assented Thorndyke; “especially as a suspicion of poisoning has been raised.” “Ha!” exclaimed Halbury. “Then it was trinitrine, you may depend. But I suspected him unjustly. It was somebody else who was dosing him; perhaps that sly-looking baggage of a wife of his. Is anyone in particular suspected?” “Yes. The accusation, such as it is, is against the wife.” “H’m. Probably a true bill. But she’s done us. Artful devil. You can’t get much evidence out of an urnful of ashes. Still, somebody has forged my signature. I suppose that is what the hussy wanted that certificate for--to get a specimen of my handwriting. I see the ‘B’ certificate was signed by a man named Meeking. Who’s he? It was Barber who called me in for an opinion.” “I must find out who he is,” replied Thorndyke. “Possibly Dr. Barber will know. I shall go and call on him now.” “Yes,” said Dr. Halbury, shaking hands as we rose to depart, “you ought to see Barber. He knows the history of the case, at any rate.” From Wimpole Street we steered a course for Howland Street, and here we had the good fortune to arrive just as Dr. Barber’s car drew up at the door. Thorndyke introduced himself and me, and then introduced the subject of his visit, but said nothing, at first, about our call on Dr. Halbury. “Ingle,” repeated Dr. Barber. “Oh, yes, I remember him. And you say he is dead. Well, I’m rather surprised. I didn’t regard his condition as serious.” “Was his heart dilated?” Thorndyke asked.