anything about. That would account for his telling you a lie."

"I assure you--"

"Let me follow out my idea to the end," said Quarles, leaning over the
table, and emphasizing his words by patting the cloth with his open hand.
"Three years ago things were rather bad on the Stock Exchange, one or two
men in the House were hammered, and several respected firms were shaky.
Now supposing Farrell had been playing with the firm's money unknown to
his partners, or perchance unknown only to one of them--yourself. Your
brother may have--"

"Really, Mr. Quarles, you are getting absurd."

"I was going to say--"

"Oh, please, let me stop you before you say anything more foolish," said
Delverton. "At that time my brother was very ill and as weak as a rat.
How could he have administered poison to Farrell?"

"It requires no strength to administer poison, only subtlety," said
Quarles. "A glass of wine, perhaps by your brother's bedside, and the
thing would be accomplished. Or there is another alternative. Your
brother may have been playing with the firm's credit, and Farrell may
have found him out."

"Any other alternative, Mr. Quarles? Your fertile brain must hold
others."

"Yes, one more, and two opinions which lead up to it," was the