The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

‘Well, thank you very much for this bottle of liniment, doctor,’ she said at last. ‘Not that I believe it will do the least good.’

I didn’t think it would either, but I protested in duty bound. After all, it couldn’t do any harm, and one must stick up for the tools of one’s trade.

‘I don’t believe in all these drugs,’ said Miss Russell, her eyes sweeping over my array of bottles disparagingly. ‘drugs do a lot of harm. Look at the cocaine habit.’

‘Well, as far as that goes-’

‘It’s very prevalent in high society.’

I’m sure Miss Russell knows far more about high society than I do. I didn’t attempt to argue with her.

‘Just tell me this, doctor,’ said Miss Russell. ‘Suppose you are really a slave of the drug habit, is there any cure?’

One cannot answer a question like that off-hand. I gave her a short lecture on the subject, and she listened with close attention. I still suspected her of seeking information about Mrs Ferrars.

‘Now, veronal, for instance-’ I proceeded.

But, strangely enough, she didn’t seem interested in veronal. Instead she changed the subject, and asked me if it was true that there were certain poisons so rare as to baffle detection.