As to this story of the
hand, bah! it is a stage play, that is all!'
Dr Gollipeck rose and walked to and fro in the little clear space
left among the disorder.
'What a devil you are!' he said, looking at Vandeloup admiringly.
'What, because I did not poison this woman?' he said, in a mocking
tone. 'Bah! you are less moral than I thought you were.'
The doctor did not take any notice of this sneer, but, putting his
hands in his pockets, faced round to the young man.
'I give my evidence to-morrow,' he said quietly, looking keenly at
the young man, 'and I prove conclusively the woman was poisoned. To
do this, I must refer to the case of Adele Blondet, and then that
implicates you.'
'Pardon me,' observed Vandeloup, coolly, removing some ash from his
velvet coat, 'it implicates Octave Braulard, who is at present,'
with a sharp look at Gollipeck, 'in New Caledonia.'
'If that is the case,' asked the doctor, gruffly, 'who are you?'
'I am the friend of Braulard,' said Vandeloup, in a measured tone.
'Myself, Braulard, and Prevol--one of the writers of the book you
refer to--were medical students together, and we all three
emphatically knew about this poison extracted from hemlock.'
He spoke so quietly that Gollipeck looked at him in a puzzled
manner, not understanding his meaning.
'You mean Braulard and Prevol were medical students?' he said,
doubtfully.
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