The Argosy, January 1907 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

240 ‘“So much for that,” remarked this businesslike medico. “I'll express those to Chicago for analysis before I go to bed, Radford. Bosh! Don’t look that way, young man. If you know what’s in your stuff you’ve certainly nothing to fear. It’s only a formality, you wun- derstand, but a necessary one. It’s a perfectly plain case of poisoning to me, even before we perform an autopsy. Come. We'll look over the gentleman himself and see what can be discovered further.”’ A bottle in either hand, he started for the rear portion of the store again. Radford followed, somewhat dazed. Just one hour ago he had been the most placid and prosperous sort of mor- tal possible. Now—well, at the very mildest, he seemed to be a leading figure in a murder or a suicide case. It was slightly disconcerting. But if it confused him, it had no similar effect upon Dr. Donaldson. That person calmly set the bottles be- side his colleague and returned to the corpse. “Just give me a hand, here, Fos- ter,” he said. “ We'll straighten him out and see what can be learned. Any idea who he is, Radford?” ‘“Not the slightest in the world, doc- tor. You are as well acquainted with him as I am.” “ “He—he looks familiar, somehow, but - “T had thought the same thing, but I couldn’t place him,” the druggist mut- tered. The body was raised and carried across the space and laid flat. Rad- ford, accustomed to minor accidents and injuries, turned away. His brother walked from behind the counter and de- voted his attention to the cigar-case un- til the process was over. An exclamation of Foster’s brought him back. “Hello! There’s a sheet of paper under him—where he fell, evidently.” “Yes, and an uncapped fountain-pen as well,” the coroner observed. Robert Radford hurried back. His brother and the two physicians were leaning over the vacated spot. Don- aldson picked up a bit of white paper, plainly the back of a used envelope. ; THE ARGOSY. “Yes, he was trying to write some- thing when he gave out and died,” he observed. “It’s pretty scraggly and ir- regular, but—wait a minute.” He carried the fragment to the light over the scales, and with his glasses perched on the end of his nose, squinted at it. He dropped it at last and turned with a peculiar smile to the others. ‘ “A rather odd document!” he com- mented. “What does it say?” the druggist asked. . “Not a great deal, my young friend, but what it does say is not altogether complimentary to yourself. It—it is pretty disconnected, but as nearly as [I can decipher it it is: | ‘““ Murdered — druggist — grudge — Drug Trust — revelations — paid un- doubtedly by And then there’s a long gap and he says, simply, ‘ dying!’ ” “ Murdered!” Radford gasped. His brother stepped forward. ““May-I see that, doctor?” “You may see, but not touch,” the coroner commented dryly. “Il keep my hands on it, if you please.” He held the paper forward, and Rob- ert Radford read the scrawl. He straightened up with a sigh, and the coroner turned to the druggist. “That one of your envelopes, Rad- ford? Thanks. Il] borrow it. Er— Exhibit C. Quite so.” He tucked. the envelope into his pocket and pursed his lips. The trio watched him silently. Donaldson con- sidered for a very brief space. ‘“ Now I think we’ll search the body,” he announced, “and then I shall issue a permit for its removal from the store at once. Will you assist in the process, Dr. Foster?” His fellow physician nodded assent and walked to the remains. Donaldson squatted beside him and began a methodical tour of the pockets. ‘Eighty dollars and forty cents in this pocket,” he remarked. “I think we'll seal these things up separately if Radford will give us the envelopes. Ah, thank you. Will you please mark those for identification, Foster?” He passed the money over and went on. “ Keys. A penknife also. Ah, yes, SS Gomichoo (©)