emptied glass.

"Not this vintage. It is too strong for me, and also for my friend
Wigan."

"Your judgment of a vintage leaves something to be desired. That glass of
port has made me curious to hear the other alternative."

"I think it was you who had been playing with the firm's money, and your
nephew found you out," said Quarles very deliberately. "That Stock
Exchange settlement was a crisis for you. I think you induced Farrell to
drink a glass of port with you, which was so doctored that he soon fell
into a sleep from which he never woke. Perchance you smiled at his
drowsiness, and suggested he should have half an hour's sleep in his
room. You would look after things in the meanwhile. You did so, and when
a clerk came in to say Dr. Morrison had called, you said Mr. Farrell had
left for the day. You took care to wash the wine glass, but it seemed a
good point to you to leave a tumbler with a little water in it on the
table. You did not leave the office until you knew that the last of the
clerks was ready to leave, and I imagine you waited somewhere in Austin
Friars to see them safely off the premises. You had no doubt that a
verdict of suicide would be returned. Later you were surprised to find
that your clerk, Kellner, knew of your money difficulties, and to silence
him he was taken into partnership. Whether the firm of Delverton
Brothers is running straight now I have no means of knowing, nor can I
say whether Mr. Kellner has any suspicion that the death of Mr. Farrell
was more opportune than natural. You are the kind of man who is much
impressed by his own cleverness, and when you met me in Devonshire it
occurred to you to throw down a challenge, to pit your wits against mine.
I suspected you then, for you overdid certain things, and a sinister