disposed of. He has been watched, practically without cessation since
you came last, and, moreover, I have myself turned out the room and
examined the bed and have not found a trace of any drug. Have you gone
into the question of sleeping sickness?"

I looked at the man narrowly before answering, and distrusted him more
than ever. But this was no time for reticence. My concern was with the
patient and his present needs. After all, I was, as Thorndyke had said,
a doctor, not a detective, and the circumstances called for
straightforward speech and action on my part.

"I have considered that question," I said, "and have come to a perfectly
definite conclusion. His symptoms are not those of sleeping sickness.
They are in my opinion undoubtedly due to morphine poisoning."

"But my dear sir!" he exclaimed, "the thing is impossible! Haven't I
just told you that he has been watched continuously?"

"I can only judge by the appearances that I find," I answered; and,
seeing that he was about to offer fresh objections, I continued: "Don't
let us waste precious time in discussion, or Mr. Graves may be dead
before we have reached a conclusion. If you will hurry them up about the
coffee that I asked for some time ago, I will take the other necessary
measures, and perhaps we may manage to pull him round."

The rather brutal decision of my manner evidently daunted him. It must
have been plain to him that I was not prepared to accept any explanation
of the unconscious man's condition other than that of morphine
poisoning; whence the inference was pretty plain that the alternatives
were recovery or an inquest. Replying stiffly that I "must do as I