"A view that startles me," the doctor said. "You remember my telling you of the interest he took in your symptoms, and in the remedies I had employed? Well! Mr. Rothsay accounts for the incomprehensible recovery of your health by asserting that poison--probably administered in small quantities, and intermitted at intervals in fear of discovery--has been mixed with your medicine; and he asserts that the guilty person is Mrs.
Mozeen."
It was impossible that I could openly express the indignation that I felt on hearing this. My position toward Rothsay forced me to restrain myself.
"May I ask," the doctor continued, "if Mrs. Mozeen was aware that she had a legacy to expect at your death?""Certainly."
"Has she a brother who is one of the dispensers employed by your chemists?""Yes."
"Did she know that I doubted if my prescriptions had been properly prepared, and that I intended to make inquiries?""I wrote to her myself on the subject."
