Mr. Dawson was standing at his window. He saw the detective alight from the car, and hurried to the door.
“You know who I am, I see!” said Sexton Blake, as the vet welcomed him with effusive cordiality. “I want some information from you, if you’re willing to give it to me.”
“Any information I can give you is at your service,” said Mr. Dawson, “What do you want to know?”
“You attend most of the horses hereabouts when they are ill, I suppose.”
“All of them, I think.”
“Have you one on your list at present suffering from the effects of yew-poisoning?”
“Why, yes!” replied the vet, in evident surprise. “I was called out early this morning to sec one—a valuable hunter, belonging to Major Brett.”
“Taken ill this morning?”
“Yes; quite suddenly.”
“And you’ve no doubt that the horses’s illne
