"You had better give it to me," said Haberden. "I am afraid something wrong has happened."
We went out of the shop in silence, the doctor carrying the bottle neatly wrapped in paper under his arm.
"Dr. Haberden," I said when we had walked a little way—"Dr. Haberden."
"Yes," he said, looking at me gloomily enough.
"I should like you to tell me what my brother has been taking twice a day for the last month or so."
"Frankly, Miss Leicester, I don't know. We will speak of this when we get to my house."
We walked on quickly without another word till we reached Dr. Haberden's. He asked me to sit down, and began pacing up and down the room, his face clouded over, as I could see, with no common fears.
"Well," he said at length, "this is all very strange; it is only natural that you should feel alarmed, and I must confess that my mind is far from easy. We will put aside, if you please, what you told me last night and this morning, but the fact remains that for the last few weeks Mr. Leicester has been impregnating his system with a drug which is completely unknown to me. I tell you, it is not what I ordered; and what that stuff in the bottle really is remains to be seen."
He undid the wrapper, and cautiously tilted a few grains of the white powder on to a piece of paper, and peered curiously at it.
"Yes," he said, "it is like the sulphate of quinine, as you say; it is flaky. But smell it."
