"No. I only took one drink out of my glass. Miller, I remember, swallowed his at one gulp just before leaving. It was his final whisky, and Himes mixed them both with his own hand." "He had two objects, you see, in inducing you to stay behind, first to prevent you both being struck down together, and secondly he intended that it should appear that you had committed suicide. Miss Miller does not recollect the number of the house--do you?" "No. I never saw the number, but would recognise it again. Besides, Hyde Park Gate is not a large place. You could soon discover the house." "He probably lived there under another name." "He had only recently come over from America, he told us," I said. "And in all probability is by this time on his way back there," laughed the detective. "At any rate we'll have a look about the neighbourhood of Hyde Park Gate and gather what interesting facts we can. We want him now on charges of wilful murder and of attempted murder." "How long will it be before I can get out?" I asked. "Well, the doctor last night said you'd probably be in here another fortnight, at the least." "A fortnight!" What might not happen to Ella in that time! Would Miller's death change the current of events, I wondered? For poor Lucie I felt a deep sympathy, for she had regarded her father as her dearest friend, and had, I think, never suspected the dishonest manner in which he made his income. Himes was a clever scoundrel, without a doubt. He had thoroughly misled a shrewd, far-seeing man like Miller, as well as myself, by his suave manner and easy-going American _bonhomie_. "And now you'd better rest again," said the inspector to me. "Don't worry over the affair any more to-day. Leave it to us. When we find this interesting American, who gives his friends poisoned whisky, we'll let you know." I thanked all three, and they withdrew. A moment later, however, the detective who had spoken returned to me, and leaning over the bed said in a low, confidential whisper so that none could hear:-- "The dead man--Mr Miller--he bore rather a bad reputation, didn't he? Was a bit of a mystery, I mean? Now, tell me the truth." "What do you mean?" I asked, in feigned surprise. "Well, you know what we mean when we say that," he exclaimed, smiling. "I don't know how intimate you were with him, but the fact is that the body's been identified as that of a man we've wanted for a very long time. He was generally known as Milner, and lived on the Continent a good deal. The French police sent us his photograph and description nearly three years ago. This is it." And he showed me in secret an unmounted police portrait taken in two positions, full face and side face. "This surprises me," I said. "Of course I've never had anything to do with his business. Indeed, although I knew his daughter well, I only knew him very slightly." "Oh, his daughter's all right. We have no suspicion of her."