e treated in the strictest
confidence--you may regard the matter in a new light. 'Nicol Brinn' and
'Fire-Tongue' were the last words which Sir Charles Abingdon uttered."

"What!" cried Doctor McMurdoch, displaying a sudden surprising energy.
"What?"

"I solemnly assure you," declared Harley, "that such is the case.
Benson, the butler, also overheard them."

Doctor McMurdoch relapsed once more into gloom, gazing at the whiskey in
the glass which he held in his hand and slowly shaking his head. "Poor
old Charley Abingdon," he murmured. "It's plain to me, Mr. Harley, that
his mind was wandering. May not we find here an explanation, too, of
this idea of his that some danger overhung Phil? You didn't chance to
notice, I suppose, whether he had a temperature?"

"I did not," replied Harley, smiling slightly. But the smile quickly
left his face, which became again grim and stern.

A short silence ensued, during which Doctor McMurdoch sat staring
moodily down at the carpet and Harley slowly paced up and down the room;
then:

"In view of the fact," he said, suddenly, "that Sir Charles clearly
apprehended an attempt upon his life, are you satisfied professionally
that death was due to natural causes?"

"Perfectly satisfied," replied the physician, looking up with a start:
"perfectly satisfied. It was unexpected, of course, but such cases are
by no means unusual. He was formerly a keen athlete, remember. 'Tis
often so. Surely you don't suspect foul play? I understood you to mean
that his apprehensions were on behalf of Phil."

Paul Harley stood still, staring meditatively in the other's direction.
"There is not a scrap of evidence to support such a theory," he
admitted, "but if you knew of the existence of any poisonous agent which
would produce effects simulating these familiar symptoms, I should be
tempted to take certain steps."

"If you are talking about poisons," said the physician, a rather
startled look appearing upon his face, "there are several I might
mention; but the idea seems preposterous to me. Why should any one want
to harm Charley Abingdon? When could poison have been administered and
by whom?"

"When, indeed?" murmured Harley. "Yet I am not satisfied."

"You're not hinting at--suicide?"

"Emphatically no."

"What had he eaten?"

"Nothing but soup, except that he drank a portion of a glass of water. I
am wondering if he took anything at Mr. Wilson's house." He stared hard
at Doctor McMurdoch. "It