The Argosy, January 1907 — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

238 some of your own prescriptions, Rad- ford? ”’ ‘“Come back here, doctor.” A pair of humorously twinkling blue eyes and a Vandyke beard came around the corner of the counter, followed by a muscular body and a black bag. “There’s a dead man here, Foster! ” said the druggist gravely. The humorous eyes sobered suddenly. The doctor dropped his bag to the coun- ter and looked at the figure on the floor. “Who the devil’s that?” was the physician’s query. ‘We don’t know, Foster. He got off the car with another man and drank a glass of soda-water,” the drug- gist answered. ‘After that, he took sick, and—well, he seems to be dead now.” “When did he die?” “We don’t know that, either. Bob and I went for you and Donaldson. We left the poor chap here with the other fellow, and when we came back he was alone—and dead!” ‘“Aumph!” The physician pursed his lips. ‘What did he drink, Rad- ford—headache fizz, or anything of that sort that might go to a weak heart?” “He had nothing but orange phos- phate, doctor.” “And that knocked him out?” “No, it did not!” The doctor glanced at the druggist with the faintest shadow of a twinkle in his eyes. He was rather well ac- quainted with people who had passed to the Beyond. “ Never mind, Radford’; I’m not ac- cusing the phosphate, you know. Things have been said about your soda-water, but——”’ He walked to the side of the dead man and sank to his knees. He picked up the limp hand—and dropped it as quickly. “ Well, there isn’t much doubt about the present status of the case,” he ob- served dryly. ‘“‘ This gentleman’s about as dead as any one I have ever ob- served in the course of my practise.” ‘“ We—we thought that.” “You thought right, then, but « He bent more closely to examine the body. He prodded, and felt about, and came close to the face of the corpse. THE ARGOSY. Then he stood erect. with rather an odd expression. ‘“What do you suppose this man died of, Radford?” “ Heart-failure, as nearly as I can see.” : The physician stroked his beard. He looked at the druggist for an instant, and his gaze settled upon a row of bot- tles. 3 “You don’t see straight in this case, friend. The man’s been poisoned!” “What!” ‘« Surest thing that ever happened. I don’t pretend, just now, to say what it is, but I’d swear on a stack of Bibles a mile high that he has been fixed within the last half-hour!” * But ’ gasped the druggist. “Oh, I’m not saying that it was your soda-water,” smiled the doctor. ‘‘ But somehow or other he has acquired a big dose of some mighty active poison, and from all indications I should say that it was cyanide of potash, or some other salt of cyanogen.” ‘““And how on earth would he get that?” “Give it up.. Unless, ofcourse, he wanted to commit suicide. Did he seem despondent, or anything of that kind?” “Not a bit of it. He was cranky enough to ” the druggist began, and stopped short. It seemed rather a low trick to comment upon the dead man’s eccentricities just then. Dr. Foster walked over to a chair and settled comfortably to a cigarette. ‘““T can’t touch this chap, you know, Radford,” he said. “I’m only the board of health in this vicinity. Don- aldson’s the coroner, you know.” * We’ve sent for him, too.” “Then the sooner he gets here the better. We’ll have to ring the town un- dertaker out of bed if he doesn’t arrive soon.” The druggist sighed. The editor sighed, too, but in a different way. Instead of one story for the Morning News, he had two. It was rather un- kind to be glad of it, but he regarded the situation from a professional stand- point and wished that the coroner would appear. He had not long to wait. Foster had just flicked the ash from (E(0) 0)(0\(6) AMG S (C@)