s out of patience with
you; would make a new will to-day."

"Do you think," Bobby asked, "that Carlos is clever enough to have got
through those doors? And what about this afternoon--that ghastly
disturbing of the body?"

He smiled wanly.

"It looks like me or the ghosts of my ancestors."

"If Paredes," Graham insisted, "tries to borrow any money from you now,
tell me about it. Another thing, Bobby. We can't afford to keep your
experiences of last night a secret any longer."

He stepped to the door and asked Doctor Groom to come out.

"He won't be likely to pass your confidences on to Howells," he said.
"Those men are natural antagonists."

After a moment the doctor appeared, a slouch hat drawn low over his
shaggy forehead.

"What you want?" he grumbled. "This court's a first-class place to catch
cold. Dampest hole in the neighbourhood. Often wondered why."

"I want to ask you," Graham began, "something about the effects of such
drugs as could be given in wine. Tell him, will you, Bobby, what happened
last night?"

Bobby vanquished the discomfort with which the gruff, opinionated
physician had always filled him. He recited the story of last night's
dinner, of his experience in the cafe, of his few blurred impressions of
the swaying vehicle and the woods.

"Hartley thinks something may have been put in my wine."

"What for?" the doctor asked. "What had these people to gain by drugging
you? Suppose for some far-fetched reason they wanted to have Silas
Blackburn put out of the way. They couldn't make you do it by drugging
you. At any rate, they couldn't have had a hand in this afternoon. Mind,
I'm not saying you had a thing to do with it yourself, but I don't
believe you were drugged. Any drug likely to be used in wine would
probably have sent you into a deep sleep. And your symptoms on waking up
are scarcely sharp enough. Sorry, boy. Sounds more like aphasia. The path
you've been treading sometimes leads to that black country, and it's
there that hates sharpen unknown. I remember a case where a tramp
returned and killed a farmer who had refused him food. Retained no
recollection of the crime--hours dropped out of his life. They executed
him while he still tried to remember."

"I read something about the case," Bobby muttered.

"Been better if you hadn't," the doctor grumbled. "Suggestions work in a
man's brain without his knowing it."

He thought for a moment, his heavy, black brows coming closer togeth