atropine; third, theyâd make the whole thing look like some kind of an accident, and perhaps keep us on that tackâwhere we still are, come to think of it.â
âThereâs another reason, of courseâatropine confuses, and makes the wits to wander. Nobody quite knows whether Tommy Ormiston really saw a lady in a car, or merely dreamed it. There may be other reasons still.â
âYou said the children had something else in common.â
âThey were alone that morning by the merest chance. Sarah Beasley had no fixed time for visiting her cats, and no exclusive rights in the barn. Tommy Ormiston was abandoned on his sand pile for an hour because it was moving day; the rest of the family was engaged elsewhere; and Mr. Breck happened to have closed the shutters, so that he could not be watched or overlooked from the front windows. Julia Bartram was left alone in her summerhouse for about the same length of time, because of an unprecedented family occasionâthe unexpected arrival of her uncle, aunt and cousin from Europe. Her case is also complicated by the fact that the extra help which had been engaged arrived late; otherwise, the nurse would not have stayed so long in the kitchen.
âWe are confronted with coincidence, here; unless we accept the theory that the nightshade was distributed by somebody whose wits were in good working order, and who was to some extent acquainted with these households, their habits and their plans.â
Mitchell shook his head. âI tell you there ainât any motive in the world that could include the Bartrams, and the Ormistons, and the Beasleys.â
âIâm inclined to agree with you. Let us suppose then that one of these children was to be eliminated, for reasons of gain, revenge, we know not what; the others were therefore given the berries for purposes of camouflageâto distract our attention from the family under attack.â
âThe Beasleys were camouflage, then. They just havenât got an enemy in the world, and nobody has anything to gain by poisoning one of their children. We know all about the Beasleys.â
âWho knows all about anyone? Iâm inclined to think youâre right, though; the Beasleys look very much like camouflage, poor souls.â
Mitchell sucked gloomily at his pipe. âWell,â he said, âI asked you to come up and meet the families.â
âBut why should they meekly submit to meeting me?â
âLoring knows who you are, and heâs told the Bartrams; they want to see you.â
âHow about the distinguished Ormiston?â
âHeâs heard of you, too. He said I could bring you along.â
Gamadge looked at Mitchell rather wanly. âI sometimes wish,â he said, âthat I did not feel myself under an obligation to you, my dear Mr. Mitchell.â
âYou ainât; but if you was, youâd work it all off between now and Sunday night.â
CHAPTER FOUR
The Companion of Sirius
âW EâLL START WITH the gypsies.â Mitchell turned his car out of the Burnside precincts, and drove south. âThen weâll go to the Bartrams, by way of the short cut; from there to Harperâs Rocks, and around to the Beasley farm.â
The tall pines of the gypsy encampment towered ahead of them, and on their left a narrow dirt road wound between cornfields, and disappeared into the dark mouth of the woods beyond. Mitchell stopped.
âHereâs the entrance to the short cut,â he said. âTrainor used to take this way home, sometimes, when he was bound for headquarters. He reported there before he went off duty.â
âWhat time?â
âNo special timeâusually about seven. He was late on Tuesday, account of all the extra trips to Beasleyâs. He was seen about seven fifteen, out Bailtown wayâhis regular beat. He lived in Oakport, and they were expecting him there for his supper. Cogswell says he