Cumberly forcibly, and he started back with his brows drawn together in a frown.
“Do you mean that she was addicted to the use of drugs?” he asked, sharply; “or that the drugging took place to-night.”
“The drugging did take place to-night!” whispered the other. “An injection was made in the left shoulder with a hypodermic syringe; the mark is quite fresh.”
Dr. Cumberly glared at his fellow practitioner, angrily.
“Are there no other marks of injection?” he asked.
“On the left forearm, yes. Obviously self-administered. Oh, I don’t deny the habit! But my point is this: the injection in the shoulder was not self-administered.”
“Come, Helen,” said Cumberly, taking his daughter’s arm; for she had drawn near, during the colloquy—“you must get to bed.”
His face was very stern when he turned again to Mr. Hilton.
“I shall return in a few minutes,” he said, and escorted his daughter from the room.
