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 Cumberly forcibly, and he started back with his brows drawn together in a frown.

“Do you mean that she was addicted to the use of drugs?” he asked, sharply; “or that the drugging took place to-night.”

“The drugging did take place to-night!” whispered the other. “An injection was made in the left shoulder with a hypodermic syringe; the mark is quite fresh.”

Dr. Cumberly glared at his fellow practitioner, angrily.

“Are there no other marks of injection?” he asked.

“On the left forearm, yes. Obviously self-administered. Oh, I don’t deny the habit! But my point is this: the injection in the shoulder was not self-administered.”

“Come, Helen,” said Cumberly, taking his daughter’s arm; for she had drawn near, during the colloquy—“you must get to bed.”

His face was very stern when he turned again to Mr. Hilton.

“I shall return in a few minutes,” he said, and escorted his daughter from the room.