"I knew there was no chance," he said, when told of the death. "And you
remember I said so," he added, appealing to the parents.

"Yes, that's what he said," responded the father.

"Well," said the doctor, speaking in a brisk, lively way peculiar to
him, "I've found what the matter was."

"No?" said the mother, becoming interested at once.

"It was the milk," the doctor continued. "I thought there was something
wrong with it, the moment I smelt it, but I took some home to make
sure." He pulled a paper out of his pocket. "That's the test, and Dr.
Plumb, who has two cases next door, found it was just the same there."

The Blacketts gazed at the written analysis, with wonder, not
understanding a word of it. Peter looked too, when they had satisfied
their curiosity. As he read it, a curious expression came into his face.
A look not unlike that which his face had worn on the deck of the
"Sunrise." It could hardly be called a change of expression, but rather
a strengthening and deepening of his ordinary look.

"That was in the milk drunk by the children?" he asked, placing his
finger on a particular line.

"Yes," replied the doctor. "The milk was bad to start with, and was
drugged to conceal the fact. These carbonates sometimes work very
unevenly, and I presume this particular can of milk got more than its
share of the doctoring.