by John Rhode
‘Well, the stranger, even though he may have been a confederate, cannot have been the actual poisoner,’ said Hanslet. ‘Unless he was in the house earlier in the morning unknown to its occupants, and I don’t see how that can have happened. No, I’m afraid the matter’s plain enough. Janet Harleston poisoned her half-brother, possibly at the instigation of Philip.’
Dr Priestley had been listening attentively to this conversation. ‘Do you not think, Superintendent, that you are accepting things at their face value without adequate investigation?’
‘Well, Professor, I was inclined to think at first that things were too easy,’ Hanslet replied. ‘But then, I made some inquiries into the question of motive. I went to see the family solicitor. From him I obtained the information that there are only two people who could possibly benefit by Victor Harleston’s death. And those two people are his half-sister and brother.’
Dr Priestley frowned. ‘Benefit financially, I suppose you mean,’ he said. ‘Surely you are not yet sufficiently acquainted with Harleston’s history to state that nobody else might have found his death desirable?’
‘Well no, I suppose I’m not,’ Hanslet replied. ‘But from what I can hear of Harleston, he was a man without any particular history. He seems to have been mean and uncompanionable, but otherwise inoffensive.’
Dr Priestley put the tips of his fingers together, a favourite gesture with him, and stared at the ceiling. ‘It seems to me,’ he said oracularly, ‘that the chief interest of this case lies in the manner by which the poison was administered. It appears to be proved fairly conclusively that the poison was not swallowed, but absorbed through a cut sustained while Harleston was shaving. It appears to me hardly probable that Harleston applied the whole of a cup of tea to his cut. He might have dipped a towel in the tea and dabbed this on his face. But that would account for hardly more than a spoonful of the tea. Yet, I understand, the tea-cup found in his room was nearly empty.’
Hanslet laughed. ‘Perhaps you will remember a case in which you helped me not long ago, Professor,’ he replied. ‘Then you asked me if I had looked for lip marks on a wine glass. I remembered that this morning and I particularly looked for lip marks on the cup. I found them, all right. There’s not a shadow of doubt that the cup had been drunk from. And yet, here is Dr Oldland, assuring us that the poison had not been swallowed.’
‘I do not see that that need present any difficulty,’ said Dr Priestley quietly. ‘If the poison were already in the tea when Harleston poured out his cupful he certainly did not drink it. The post-mortem evidence is conclusive proof of that. On the other hand, if Harleston drank the cup of tea, the poison was not then in it. We should then be driven to explore the possibility of the poison having been added at some later time.’
‘Added later!’ Hanslet exclaimed. ‘When? Why? And by whom?’
Dr Priestley seemed indisposed to reply. It was Oldland who stepped into the breach. ‘I’d hazard a guess to all three parts of your question, Superintendent,’ he said. ‘When, during the period that Janet Harleston was absent from the house on her errand to fetch me. Why, to produce a false impression. The poisoner may not have known that post-mortem examination would enable us to say positively that the poison had not been swallowed but absorbed through the skin. Finally, by whom, suggests a very interesting speculation. What about the man whom Janet met on the doorstep?’
Dr Priestley protested. ‘This is carrying conjecture to an unwarrantable length,’ he said severely.
‘Sorry, Priestley,’ said Oldland contritely. ‘That was a wild bit of guesswork, I’ll admit. But the facts are there and they’ve got to be explained somehow.’
‘They are more likely to be explained by careful investigation than by conjecture,’ Dr Priestley replied. ‘The central point, I still insist, is this. How did the nicotine come in contact with the wound? You have, no doubt, made a careful examination of the house, Superintendent. In the course of that, did you find a bloodstained towel?’
‘No, it’s rather a queer thing, but I didn’t,’ Hanslet replied. ‘I looked for one in the bathroom, but couldn’t find it. However, it must be about the place somewhere. I’ll have another look.’
‘I should very strongly advise you to do so,’ said Dr Priestley. ‘This morning, you were under the impression that the poison had been swallowed. The cut on the dead man’s face had therefore but slight significance for you. Now, however, you know that cut to have been vital. How and when the cut was sustained should be the basis of your future inquiries.’
5
Next morning, upon his arrival at the Yard, Hanslet found the official report of the post-mortem awaiting him. It was a voluminous and highly technical document, but it told him no more than he had already learnt from Oldland.
He put it aside and turned to greet Inspector Waghorn, who entered his room at that moment.
‘Well, Jimmy, and what about our two young friends?’ he asked.
‘I saw them down to this place, Lassingford, yesterday afternoon,’ Jimmy replied. ‘It’s only a village, and, of course, everybody there knows Philip Harleston. He lives in a cottage on Hart’s Farm. Nice little place, wouldn’t mind living there myself. They didn’t know I was behind them all the way, of course. When I had seen them safely installed, I went and had a chat with the local constable. He’ll let us know if they attempt to make any move.’
‘Janet will have had a summons to attend the inquest by now,’ said Hanslet. ‘It’s fixed for this afternoon at half-past two. We shan’t produce any evidence at this stage, and there’s bound to be an adjournment. That will give us time to look round. And, since you’re here, Jimmy, you may as well come along with me and we’ll have another look over that house in Matfield Street.’
On the way Hanslet explained to his subordinate the disconcerting paradox revealed by the post-mortem. ‘You see how it is,’ he said. ‘The experts say that Harleston could not have been poisoned by the tea. They are confident that his death was due to absorbing the poison through the cut on his face. How did the poison reach that cut? That’s the question we’ve got to answer.’
‘The only thing I can think of, is that he must have used his early morning tea as shaving water,’ suggested Jimmy flippantly.
‘You’ll have to think of something a bit more sensible than that,’ Hanslet replied. ‘Here we are, I’ve got the key in my pocket, and the local people have had instructions to keep an eye on the place.’
The superintendent unlocked the door and they entered. A rapid survey was sufficient to assure Hanslet that nothing had been touched since his last visit. In the dining-room Harleston’s untouched breakfast looked more unappetising than ever. The imprint made by the body on the sofa in the sitting-room was still visible. A woman’s crumpled handkerchief lay in the hall. It had evidently been dropped by Janet in the course of her hurried departure. Hanslet picked it up and sniffed at it. It smelt faintly of eau-de-Cologne.
Remembering Dr Priestley’s hint, Hanslet led the way to the bathroom. He and Jimmy stood just inside the doorway whence they could survey the whole room. On the ledge by the wash-basin they saw the safety razor, the stick of shaving soap and the brush. Thrown carelessly over a towel rail was a bath towel, but this seemed to bear no trace of blood. Only those two or three drops of blood on the edge of the basin showed that the cut must have bled fairly freely.
‘We know that Victor Harleston has a recent cut on the right side of his face,’ said Hanslet. ‘We can’t say for certain, of course, that he made this cut while he was shaving himself. The cut may have been caused in some other way. Yet, if we accept Janet’s statement, we have confirmation of the shaving theory. She asked him whether he had cut himself shaving and he admitted it rather surlily.
‘On the other hand, Janet may have had some reason for her statement. She may have wished to create the impression that her half-brother had cut himself while shaving. Again, where is the towel he must have used? He may have thrown it into a dirty clothe
s basket somewhere. No, from what one may judge of his habits he was not a very tidy man. Let’s have a look round and see if we can’t unearth it somewhere.’
They scoured the house without success. In the little boxroom was a clothes basket containing a few items of dirty linen. But the towel they were seeking was not among these. There were no coal fires in the house, so the theory that it might have been burnt was untenable. After an exhaustive search of every corner, they were bound to confess themselves nonplussed.
‘I can’t make it out,’ said Hanslet petulantly. ‘What do you do, when you cut yourself shaving, Jimmy?’
‘Grab hold of the towel and dab my face with it,’ Jimmy replied promptly.
‘Exactly. So I imagine does everybody else. In this case, the cut began to bleed at once. These drops on the basin show that. Harleston must have dabbed his face with something, but what? Not the bath towel—there’s no blood on that. His handkerchief, as I happened to notice yesterday morning, has no blood upon it. In any case, blood or no blood, the man must have used a towel to dry his face after shaving. Where is it? And there’s another queer thing, Jimmy. This shaving brush was bone dry when I looked at it yesterday morning. That seems to me pretty queer, for in my experience a shaving brush remains wet for a long time after use.’
‘That is rather queer,’ said Jimmy thoughtfully. ‘I wonder whether Harleston was right or left-handed?’
‘What the devil has that got to do with it?’ Hanslet demanded.
‘I was just thinking of the technique of shaving. Most people lather their face all over and then begin to use the razor. If they are right-handed, they almost invariably start on the right side of their faces on a level with the ear. If, then, Harleston was right-handed, he probably cut himself as soon as he started shaving.’
‘That’s rather a neat point, Jimmy,’ said Hanslet approvingly. ‘But I don’t see that it is of any particular use to us.’
‘Only this. Apparently he finished shaving after he had cut himself. In which case he must continually have dabbed his face with something, and that something must have absorbed a considerable quantity of blood.’
‘Well, since we can’t find it, that’s hardly helpful.’
‘What is he likely to have done with it?’ Jimmy insisted. ‘His face probably continued bleeding after he had finished shaving. He might have taken this towel, or whatever it was, into his bedroom to use while he was dressing. If you don’t mind I’ll have one last search in there.’
Hanslet raised no objection to this. Jimmy went into Harleston’s bedroom and proceeded to examine everything which the room contained. In the course of his search he came upon the vase containing the spills. He turned these out and looked inside the vase. There was no towel or fragment of rag within it. As he replaced the spills, he noticed the fragment of an embossed word upon one of them. He unfolded the spill, thus revealing the word Novoshave.
Hanslet was still pursuing his search in the bathroom. Jimmy took in the spills.
‘Did not you tell me that you found some headed paper belonging to Novoshave Ltd?’ he asked.
‘Yes, in the desk in the dining-room,’ Hanslet replied. ‘Why?’
‘Because here’s a bit of another sheet of the same paper. And this sheet has had a letter typed upon it.’
Hanslet seemed unimpressed. ‘Well, that’s not a very sensational discovery,’ he said. ‘You’d much better keep your mind fixed on the towel.’
But Jimmy’s imagination had been set to work. Novoshave Ltd. He had seen their advertisement. They were, he knew, a firm who specialised in the manufacture of safety razors and other shaving requisites.
The tiresome and recurrent business of shaving seemed to be the background of this case. It might be worth while ascertaining the nature of the communication from Novoshave Ltd. to Victor Harleston.
It was an easy matter to unfold the four spills and so to piece together the letter from which they had been made. It was typewritten and ran as follows:
‘DEAR MR. HARLESTON. As you are no doubt aware we are about to place upon the market our new model K. safety razor. This model has certain features which render it the most efficient safety razor yet produced. We are confident that it will meet with a ready welcome from the general public.
‘We are anxious, however, to have a few opinions other than our own. For this purpose we have decided to distribute specimens of this model among certain of our friends. We have the greatest pleasure in including you among the number. Enclosed you will find one of our model K. razors in leather case. We have also included a tube of our famous Novoshave cream. This is applied direct to the face and no brush or water are necessary.
‘We shall be greatly indebted to you if you will be good enough to make an early trial of the razor and cream, and at your convenience to report to us the results obtained by you.’
The letter was dated January 18th, three days’ prior to Harleston’s death. He had been in no hurry to make the trial, Jimmy thought. The safety razor found in the bathroom was an ordinary Gillette, not a Novoshave. Nor had the tube of shaving cream come to light. Harleston had apparently been in the habit of using Pears shaving soap. Perhaps he had put away the gift so generously made him by Novoshave Ltd., intending to use it upon some future occasion.
Jimmy idly turned over the strips of paper forming the letter. On the back he observed some figures in pencil. These were as follows:
Jimmy put the letter aside and proceeded to unfold the remaining spills. These, having been made of fragments of newspaper, contained no information of significance. He resumed his search for the towel, even going so far as to lift the carpet in case it should have been hidden underneath it. At last he was compelled to admit to complete failure.
Hanslet had had no better luck in the bathroom. He seemed put out by his lack of success.
‘It’s no good wasting any more of our time here,’ he exclaimed crossly. ‘We’d better get back to the Yard. ‘There’s plenty to do there. And then after lunch we shall have to put in an appearance at this confounded inquest.’
That afternoon, Jimmy reached the coroner’s court before his superior. Not long after his arrival, Janet Harleston appeared, escorted by her brother Philip. Jimmy greeted her and drew her aside. ‘There are one or two questions I should like to ask you, Miss Harleston,’ he said. ‘To begin with, where did your brother shave yesterday morning?’
‘In the bathroom, I suppose, as he always did,’ she replied. ‘I put a jug of hot water in there for him, just after I had brought him his early tea.’
‘Did you visit the bathroom again before you left the house yesterday?’
‘No, I always tidied upstairs after Victor had gone to the office, but yesterday I hadn’t the chance.’
‘How many towels were there in the bathroom yesterday morning?’
Janet smiled at the apparent absurdity of the question. ‘Well, there was Victor’s bath towel on the rail,’ she replied. ‘And a clean face towel, which I had put over the jug of hot water to keep it warm.’
Jimmy pursued this subject no further. It was very remarkable that this face towel should so mysteriously have vanished. He went on to his next point.
‘Did your brother receive a package of any kind on Saturday?’ he inquired.
Janet thought for a minute. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘A small parcel came for him in the morning after he had left the house. I gave it to him when he came back in the middle of the day and I don’t remember seeing it since.’
‘Have you any idea who sent him the parcel?’
She shook her head. ‘Not the slightest. I didn’t take any particular notice. It was just an ordinary parcel, quite small, with a typewritten label on it.’
‘What did your brother do with the parcel when you gave it him?’
‘I went out of the room directly afterwards. He had picked up a knife and was cutting the string then.’
‘In which room was this?’
‘In the dining-roo
m. Victor always came home to lunch on Saturdays. The table was laid before he came home and I went down to the kitchen to bring up the food.’
All this sounded reasonable enough. ‘If your brother had opened the parcel what would he have done with the brown paper and string?’ Jimmy asked.
‘He would probably have put them in the wastepaper basket beside his desk. Now I come to think of it, I believe I remember seeing some crumpled brown paper and string in it when I emptied the basket on Sunday evening.’
‘What did you empty the waste-paper basket into, Miss Harleston?’
‘Why, into the dustbin, of course. Where else?’
Jimmy smiled ingratiatingly. ‘I’m sorry to be so persistent, Miss Harleston, but what became of the dustbin?’ he asked.
‘Why, I put it outside first thing on Monday morning for the dustman to empty. He’s always round between seven and eight, and when he has emptied it, I take the dustbin in again. And of course, he emptied it yesterday morning as usual. I took the dustbin in while I was getting breakfast.’
The court was now about to open and Jimmy had no further opportunity for conversation. The inquest lasted no more than a few minutes. Merely formal evidence was taken and the coroner adjourned the proceedings for a fortnight. Jimmy returned to the Yard, deeply perplexed by the problem of the missing towel.
He sat down to consider the mystery. Towels do not vanish of themselves. This particular towel must have been removed from the bathroom by human agency. Harleston might have removed it himself, certainly. But in that case what could he have done with it? He had not left the house between the time of his shaving and the time of his death. He could not have destroyed the towel without leaving some traces. The search had been so thorough that Jimmy felt convinced the towel must have been removed from the house. By whom? Perhaps by Janet when she went to fetch Dr Oldland. Perhaps by the mysterious man on the doorstep. But why should anyone have removed the towel? For the first time Jimmy saw clearly the answer to this question. Harleston had been poisoned by nicotine absorbed through the cut. He had probably dabbed the cut with the towel. Therefore the towel would show traces of the poison.