An hour after her departure Duson was dead. He died
from drinking out of your liqueur glass, into which a few specks
of that powder, invisible almost to the naked eye, had been dropped.
At Dorset House Reginald Brott was waiting for her. He left shortly
afterwards in a state of agitation."
"And from these things," Mr. Sabin said, "you draw, I presume, the
natural inference that Madame la Duchesse, desiring to marry her
old admirer, Reginald Brott, first left me in America, and then,
since I followed her here, attempted to poison me."
"There is," Passmore said, "a good deal of evidence to that effect."
"Here," Mr. Sabin said, handing him Duson's letter, "is some
evidence to the contrary."
Passmore read the letter carefully.
"You believe this," he asked, "to be genuine?"
Mr. Sabin smiled.
"I am sure of it!" he answered.
"You recognise the handwriting?"
"Certainly!"
"And this came into your possession--how?"
"I found it on the table by Duson's side."
"You intend to produce it at the inquest?"
"I think not," Mr. Sabin answered.
There was a short silence. Passmore was revolving a certain matter
in his mind--thinking hard. Mr. Sabin was apparently trying to
make rings of the blue smoke from his cigarette.
"Has it occurred to you," Passmore asked, "to wonder for what reason
your wife visited these rooms on the morning of Duson's death?"
Mr.
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