Mr. Sabin was unusually silent. The German attache, whose name was
Baron von Opperman, did not speak until the champagne was served,
when he threw a bombshell into the midst of the little party.
"I hear," he said, with a broad and seraphic smile, "that in this
hotel there has to-day a murder been committed."
Baron von Opperman was suddenly the cynosure of several pairs of
eyes. He was delighted with the success of his attempt towards
the general entertainment.
"The evening papers," he continued, "they have in them news of a
sudden death. But in the hotel here now they are speaking of
something--what you call more--mysterious. There has been ordered
an examination post-mortem!"
"It is a case of poisoning then, I presume?" the Prince asked,
leaning forward.
"It is so supposed," the attache answered. "It seems that the
doctors could find no trace of disease, nothing to have caused death.
They were not able to decide anything. The man, they said, was in
perfect health--but dead."
"It must have been, then," the Prince remarked, "a very wonderful
poison."
"Without doubt," Baron Opperman answered.
The Prince sighed gently.
"There are many such," he murmured. "Indeed the science of
toxicology was never so ill-understood as now. I am assured that
there are many poisons known only to a few chemists in the world, a
single grain of which is sufficient to destroy the strongest man
and leave not the slightest trace behind.
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