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 “She was not addicted to the use of the needle,” interrupted Cumberly; “she was an opium smoker.”

“Quite so, quite so,” said Max: “it makes the point all the more clear. You are of opinion that this injection was made at least eight hours before the woman’s death?”

“At least eight hours—yes.”

“Eh bien!” said Max; “and have you had extensive experience of such injections?”

Dr. Cumberly stared at him in some surprise.

“In a general way,” he said, “a fair number of such cases have come under my notice; but it chances that one of my patients, a regular patient—is addicted to the vice.”

“Injections?”

“Only as a makeshift. He has periodical bouts of opium smoking—what I may term deliberate debauches.”

“Ah!” Max was keenly interested. “This patient is a member of good society?”

“He’s a member of Parliament,” replied Cumberly, a faint, humorous glint creeping into his gray eyes; “but, of course, that is not an answer to your question! Yes, he is of an old family, and is engaged to the daughter of a peer.”

“Dr. Cumberly,” said Max, “in a case like the present—apart from the fact that the happiness—pardieu! the life—of one of your own friends is involved…should you count it a breach of