"Who was interested in photography, Mr. or Mrs. Morowitch?"

"Both of them."

"Was Mrs. Morowitch?"

"Both of them," repeated the doctor hastily. It was evident how
Andrews's questions were tending, and it was also evident that
the doctor did not wish to commit himself or even to be
misunderstood.

Kennedy had sat silently for some minutes, turning the thing over
in his mind. Apparently disregarding Andrews entirely, he now
asked, "Doctor, supposing it had been cyanogen gas which caused
the congestion of the lungs, and supposing it had not been
inhaled in quantities large enough to kill outright, do you
nevertheless feel that Mr. Morowitch was in a weak enough
condition to die as a result of the congestion produced by the
gas after the traces of the cyanogen had been perhaps thrown
off?"

"That is precisely the impression which I wished to convey."

"Might I ask whether in his semiconscious state he said anything
that might at all serve as a clue?"

"He talked ramblingly, incoherently. As near as I can remember
it, he seemed to believe himself to have become a millionaire, a
billionaire. He talked of diamonds, diamonds, diamonds. He seemed