"You think so?" inquired Mrs Laing, with eagerness. "You don't believe, then, he has been a victim of foul play?" "Not at all. Beyond the slight bruise on the forehead, evidently caused by the fall upon the gravel, there is no mark whatever," the doctor answered. "Until I have made a thorough examination I cannot, of course, determine the nature of the fatal cause. By noon to-morrow we shall, I hope, know the truth." "He must have fallen and expired within ten minutes of leaving the house," Beck exclaimed. "Yet when he shook hands with us he was in the highest possible spirits. How terribly sudden his end was." "Terrible!" I exclaimed, myself dazed by the peculiarly tragic and mysterious affair. "When he wished us adieu he could not have dreamed that his life had so nearly run its course." "He complained of no pain during the evening, I suppose?" the doctor inquired. "Not to my knowledge," Beck answered, and this statement I was compelled to endorse. "He dined here?" Dr Allenby exclaimed, turning to Mrs Laing. "Yes." "There are some remains of the food left, I presume?" "No doubt," she answered quickly. "But--but what do you suspect! Are the symptoms those of poisoning?" she gasped. "I suspect nothing," replied the doctor, with hesitation. "The fact that the hands are tightly clenched suggests a final paroxysm of pain which might possibly accrue from poison. The remains of the dinner may be required for analysis, therefore it would be advisable to keep them." "Very well," she answered, a shadow of annoyance upon her face. "I'll give orders to that effect. But surely, doctor, you do not think poor Dudley can have been poisoned in my house. If anything we had for dinner had been deleterious, all of us must have suffered." "No, pardon me for disagreeing," he answered politely. "In many cases known to toxicologists, families have eaten of the same meal, and one person only has been seized with sudden illness that has proved fatal. By analysis we may obtain some clue as to the cause of Mr Ogle's unfortunate end." Mrs Laing's thin lips moved, but no sound escaped them. At last, turning suddenly, she covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out from her gaze the white, haggard countenance she had so recently looked upon. "Come," exclaimed the doctor, sympathetically, laying his hand upon her arm. "You are trembling. This unfortunate occurrence has no doubt upset you, but you must bear up. Immediately I get home I shall send you a draught that will brace up your nerves. Take care how the sad news is broken to Miss Ella. The slightest undue excitement may affect her very seriously." "I have not forgotten your words yesterday, doctor," she replied. "You are very kind. Good-night!" They shook hands, and Dr Allenby, taking up his hat, left--an example Beck and I soon afterwards followed, passing the night at the Angel Hotel.