"
"I do. I'm most interested. Dr. Foxton doesn't compound his own
prescriptions, does he?"
"No. I get 'em made up at Siddle's."
"Ah. These country chemists often keep drugs in stock till they
deteriorate, or even set up chemical changes. Have you the bottles?"
"Yes. But what the--"
"Anything left in them?"
"The last two are half full. Still--"
"What a cross-grained chap you are? I buy your pictures, drink your tea,
rescue you from a positively dangerous position, warn you against
carrying any farther a most serious libel, yet you won't let me help you
in a matter affecting your health!"
"Help me? How?"
"Even you, I suppose, realize that Scotland Yard employs skilled
analysts. Give me your bottles, in strict confidence, of course, and I'll
tell you what they really contain. Then you can compare the analyses with
the doctor's prescriptions. The knowledge should be useful, to say the
least. Siddle's reputation needn't suffer, but, unless I am greatly
mistaken, you will have the whip hand of him in future."
The prospect was alluring. Elkin would enjoy showing up the chemist, who
had treated him rather as a precocious infant of late.
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