by John Rhode
This suggested to Jimmy a possible theory. Suppose the towel had been saturated with the nicotine and eau-de-Cologne mixture? As soon as Harleston cut himself he would naturally apply the towel to his face. This would account for the absorption of the poison by the cut. But how could it have been predicted that he would cut himself? Poisonous though nicotine might be, the mere dabbing of the unbroken skin with a solution of it would hardly be sufficient to cause death.
This point set Jimmy’s mind afloat on a current of speculation. Nobody habitually cuts himself while shaving. He doesn’t come down to breakfast every morning of his life with a gash across his face. He either learns to keep the razor in its proper path or he grows a beard. Harleston was accustomed to shaving himself. His familiar safety razor probably performed its task without accident at least nine times out of ten. This was a very mild estimate of the chances against Harleston cutting himself on any particular morning. And it was ridiculous to suppose that he could be provided with a poisoned towel every morning on the off-chance that he would cut himself sooner or later.
And yet there might have been a reason why Harleston should have cut himself on that particular morning. The odds against a man cutting himself with a familiar razor were pretty great. But suppose he were to use an unfamiliar razor for the first time? Every different make of razor requires a slight variation in the manner of its use. A man accustomed to one type might very easily make a slip with another. If Harleston had shaved himself with the razor so thoughtfully sent him by Novoshave Ltd., the odds against him cutting himself would have been considerably increased.
But he hadn’t. That was just the trouble. The razor he had used was a Gillette which, judging by its appearance, was an old and trusty friend. How he had managed to cut himself with it was something of a mystery. Jimmy had heard the wound described in the course of the medical evidence at the inquest. It was a vertical cut, three-quarters of an inch long, on the right side of the face, close to the lobe of the ear. Now that Jimmy came to think of it, it seemed to him that it was rather a curious sort of cut to be sustained while shaving. In his experience, the cuts caused by razor blades were usually horizontal rather than vertical. That is to say, they were parallel to the edge of the blade. The reason for this being, no doubt, that they were caused by the blade not being properly secured in the holder. The edge of the blade was thus held at the wrong angle and cut the skin along a considerable proportion of its length. A vertical cut would appear to mean that only one point on the blade was out of adjustment, and that seemed to Jimmy rather extraordinary.
Another perplexing point was this. What had become of the Novoshave razor and shaving cream? These had evidently arrived by post on Saturday morning in the parcel described by Janet Harleston. Victor Harleston had unpacked his parcel. He had done so in the dining-room. There, the only receptacle for objects was the desk. Jimmy, in the course of his search that morning, had examined the desk so thoroughly that he felt convinced that the razor and shaving cream were not in it now.
What was Harleston likely to have done with them? Presumably he would neither have destroyed them nor given them away. His reputation for meanness suggested the alternative that he might have sold them. But when, and to whom? He had hardly had much opportunity before his death. On the whole, that alternative seemed most unlikely. They must be in the house somewhere. Unless, like the towel, they had disappeared. Things seemed to have an uncanny way of disappearing from that rather drab house in Matfield Street.
Jimmy felt impelled to further search. He and Hanslet between them had already turned the house upside down. Still, there might be some obscure corner which he had overlooked. Jimmy went to the superintendent’s room.
‘Do you mind if I go and have another look over that house in Matfield Street?’ he asked.
Hanslet looked up from some papers at which he was working.
‘You’re welcome to look as much as you please,’ he replied. ‘And if you can find that infernal towel, I’ll stand you an expensive drink. Here you are, take the keys.’
Jimmy let himself into the house and went upstairs to the bathroom. He tried to imagine how and where he would stand if he were about to shave himself. In front of the wash-basin, of course. There was a mirror conveniently fixed to the wall behind it. He would stand so, facing the mirror, and the light from the window would fall upon his face.
The window!
Jimmy stiffened suddenly. The various uses of a window had not occurred to him until this moment. Primarily, no doubt, windows were intended to admit light. But they had another use as well. They could be opened for the admission of air. And, once opened, things could be thrown out of them.
Jimmy went to the window, which was of the ordinary sash type. It opened readily enough at his touch. He put out his head. Beneath him was the untended plot of garden, completely overgrown with weeds and coarse rank grass.
Perhaps he had half-expected to find the missing towel there. But there was no sign of anything of the kind. A towel thrown out of the window would lie on the surface and not bury itself under the grass. But anything heavier would be hidden in the tangle. Jimmy decided that it might be worth while to go outside and look.
The only way into the garden was through a door in the basement and up a short flight of stone steps. This door was bolted and locked, but the key was on the inside. Jimmy tried the bolts and had difficulty in forcing them back. The key, again, turned rustily in its lock. It was evident that this door had not been opened for some considerable time. A quantity of rubbish had collected behind it and Jimmy had some difficulty in forcing it open. However, he succeeded at last, passed through the doorway, and up the crumbling steps.
Once in the garden he placed himself beneath the bathroom window. From this point he began his search. He examined the rough and tangled grass foot by foot. But he found nothing until he was nearly half-way across the garden. And then, about a dozen yards from the bathroom window he caught sight of a square brown object. He picked it up. It was a leather case, empty and bearing the word ‘Novoshave’ embossed in gold upon its lid.
The case was practically new, and had obviously not been lying out in the open for long. The letter from Novoshave to Harleston had mentioned a razor in a case. This undoubtedly was the case. But why, in the name of all that was wonderful, had it been thrown out of the window? And where was the razor which it had contained?
Perhaps the razor had followed the case in its inexplicable flight. Jimmy continued his search. Again he quartered the grass for some time without results. Then, almost at the farther end of the garden he caught a gleam of metal. This was the missing razor. The spot where it lay was nearly twenty yards from the house. It must have been flung out of the window with some considerable violence.
Very carefully Jimmy picked up the razor and carried it and the case into the house. Then, methodically, he searched the remainder of the garden, but no further discoveries rewarded him. He returned to the house, carefully shutting and locking the door leading to the garden. Then he proceeded to examine the razor. It appeared to be quite new. Nor could it have lain long in the garden, for the blade was free from rust. It bore the word ‘Novoshave’ and the trade mark of the firm. And it had evidently been used. The edge of the blade was clogged with a small quantity of thick brownish substance of the consistency of soft soap. And on the chromium-plated frame was a stain which Jimmy recognised as that of blood.
It was not long before Jimmy’s imagination supplied him with a theory to account for what had happened. Harleston had decided to experiment with this new razor. Unfortunately, probably owing to some clumsiness on his part, he had cut himself at the first stroke. Impetuously, he had flung the razor out of the window and the case after it. He had finished his shave with the Gillette with which he was familiar. But that did not account for the disappearance of the towel. What in the world could he have done with that?
However, this find was sufficient for the moment, Jimmy carefully wrapped up the
razor and case, and took them back to Scotland Yard, where he showed them to Hanslet. The superintendent was puzzled, but at the same time impressed.
‘You seem pretty successful at finding things, Jimmy,’ he said. ‘What do you suggest doing with these?’
‘I’d like to know what that brown stuff on the razor is,’ Jimmy replied. ‘How would it be to send this little lot to Dr Grantham and the Home Office for analysis?’
Hanslet agreed to this suggestion, which Jimmy immediately carried out. He then returned to his own room. The question uppermost in his mind was this. How did the discovery of the razor affect, if at all, the theory of Janet Harleston’s guilt?
He was quite ready to admit to himself that the girl interested him. Hanslet himself had doubts of her guilt. If she were a murderess, Jimmy thought, she was at the same time a superlative actress. At the inquest she had shown no signs of nervousness. She had managed to convey the impression that her half-brother’s death was as great a mystery to her as to anybody else. And she had seemed considerably brighter than when Jimmy had seen her first. Of course, she had secured her independence and that might account for it. But if she had murdered her brother, would not her relief have been tempered by some fears for her own safety?
And yet it seemed extremely difficult to establish a theory which would account for her innocence. It occurred to Jimmy that she might have been the unconscious tool of Philip, but somehow the idea did not ring true. From what he had seen of the two, Jimmy had come to the conclusion that Janet had far more intelligence and initiative than her brother. In fact, Philip had struck him as a rather simple-minded individual. He might have had the will to commit a murder, but surely not the ability. And this, if it were indeed a murder, showed signs of ingenuity of a very high order.
It seemed that the superintendent’s mind must have been running in a very similar channel. He called up Jimmy and asked him to come round to his room.
‘Sit down,’ he said, ‘and listen to me. This case has got to be investigated very thoroughly, and it’s a job that will take two of us. I’ve seen the Assistant Commissioner and he agrees that you shall help me. Now, I’m going to Lassingford first thing tomorrow morning. I want to make a few inquiries there. The reports of analysis will probably come in while I’m away. Look through them and see if they throw any fresh light upon the affair. And you’d better keep the key of that house in Matfield Street in case you want to make any further explorations.’
6
On the following morning, which was Wednesday, Jimmy went to Hanslet’s room as soon as he arrived at the Yard. There he found the report from the Home Office analyst. This dealt with the various objects that had been submitted.
The first paragraph of the report dealt with the contents of the teapot found in Harleston’s bedroom. This had been found to be an infusion of tea, heavily impregnated with nicotine. From the fact that the liquid was more greatly contaminated than the leaves, it seemed probable that the poison had been added after the tea was made. Next came the dregs of tea found in Harleston’s cup. These also contained a percentage of nicotine. But in the latter case the proportion was higher than in the case of the tea in the pot. The analyst made the suggestion that further nicotine might have been added to the cup after the tea had been poured out.
The next article to be dealt with was the eau-de-Cologne found in Janet’s bedroom.
This bottle contained a mixture of two liquids. The first was the cheaper type of eau-de-Cologne in which the solvent employed had been propyl alcohol. The second was nicotine which was present to the extent of rather over ten per cent. This percentage was rather greater than in the case of the tea.
The report then dealt with the coffee found in the dining-room. Neither the liquid in the pot nor the few drops remaining in Harleston’s cup contained any trace of nicotine.
The contents of the stomach were then reported upon at length. Only a very slight trace of nicotine had been discovered here. This was consistent with the view that the nicotine had not been swallowed but absorbed through the skin. The nature of the contents was such as to suggest that the deceased had consumed nothing for several hours before his death but a quantity of tea and a quantity of coffee. The quantities in each case might be estimated at an ordinary cupful.
Lastly the report dealt with the deposit on the razor. This had been removed and analysed. It had been found to consist of a mixture of cold cream and glycerine. To this mixture had been added nicotine to the extent of rather less than five per cent.
The analyst had appended a note upon this. Cold cream and glycerine form the basis of many well-known commercial shaving creams. Particularly those which render unnecessary the application of soap. It is quite possible that the basis of this deposit is one of these to which nicotine has been added subsequently. The application of such a preparation to the unbroken skin would be very dangerous. If it were to come into contact with a cut or any form of abrasion under conditions which would allow of its absorption, the consequences would probably be fatal.
To Jimmy this note was full of significance. He remembered the letter from Messrs. Novoshave. They had presented Harleston with a razor and a tube of shaving cream. The razor had been found, but what had become of the cream?
He proceeded to elaborate the mental picture which he had already formed. Harleston had decided to try the experiment which the letter had suggested. He had done so thoroughly, using the cream as well as the razor. He had no doubt covered his face with the cream and then started to shave. The razor had cut him and he had flung it away. But the cream remained on his face in intimate contact with the wound. He had probably not troubled to wipe it off but had finished his shave with his old razor, by its aid.
Now if the cream had contained nicotine, Harleston’s death was accounted for. But how had it happened that the nicotine had been present? Nicotine could hardly be a normal ingredient of Novoshave cream. Then somebody must have added it with a definitely homicidal purpose. Who could have had access to the cream between the time of its receipt by Harleston and the following Monday morning?
The razor, now freed of its deposit, had been returned. Jimmy examined it carefully. It seemed in perfect order and the blade was in its correct position. He drew the razor idly across a pad of blottimg paper. A fine sharp cut, running the whole length of the stroke, was the result. The razor had two cutting edges. He turned it over and repeated his experiment, with exactly the same results.
It seemed, then, that this particular razor was a remarkably dangerous weapon. Jimmy took a lens and examined the guard which protected the blade. He found that a minute notch had been cut in one of the ribs of the guard, and that the sharp edge of steel thus produced had been turned outwards. This operation, almost invisible to the naked eye, had been carried out on both sides of the razor. Anybody using it in its present state must certainly cut himself.
Things were becoming distinctly clearer, Jimmy thought. Harleston had been provided with a razor with which he would inevitably cut himself, and with shaving cream which would prove fatal if it came in contact with that cut. But who had provided them? It was fantastic to suppose that the firm of Novoshave should have designs upon the life of their accountant. The razor and cream must have been tampered with after despatch. The parcel containing them had been taken in by Janet during her half-brother’s absence at his office. She alone had had access to it until his return. The contents of the parcel must have been in the house during Sunday when Philip had paid his apparently stormy visit. And the shaving cream, together with the towel with which Harleston had wiped his face, had disappeared.
The reason for their disappearance was now fairly obvious. They formed valuable evidence of the means by which Harleston had met his death. It was natural that the murderer should wish to destroy his evidence. Someone had entered the bathroom after Harleston had left it. They had taken the towel and the tube of shaving cream. They would, no doubt, have taken the razor as well. But Harleston’s petulant gest
ure had prevented them. He had flung the razor and its case out of the window and they were not to be found.
But this reasoning, though perfectly logical, contained no clue to the identity of the culprit. However, upon consideration, Jimmy thought that it tended to exonerate Janet. The unknown individual had not contented himself with entering the bathroom. He had gone into Harleston’s room and poured nicotine into the teapot and cup. He had also gone into Janet’s room and added the poison to her eau-de-Cologne. His reason for doing so was easy to understand. He wished to create the impression that Janet had poisoned her half-brother by adding nicotine to his early tea.
If this exonerated Janet, it also exonerated Philip. It was hardly conceivable that the latter should have laid a trail of false clues directly pointing to his sister. There remained the period when Janet had been absent from the house. According to her, the stranger she had met on the doorstep had volunteered to go in and look after her brother. Had he done so, he would have had an opportunity for traversing the whole house. Was this stranger the murderer? And if so, how and when had he found an opportunity of tampering with the razor and shaving cream?
It seemed to Jimmy that Scotland Yard was faced with a very pretty problem. The method of the murder might now be established. But, if Janet and Philip were eliminated, the search for the culprit would be beset with difficulties. His motive was particularly baffling. Harleston might have had few friends, but, on the other hand, he was not the type of man to incur violent enmities. Nobody, apart from the members of the family, could hope to gain anything by his death. He seemed to have been too colourless an individual to have furnished any motive for revenge.
Even supposing that the man seen by Janet on the doorstep were indeed the murderer, how was he to be traced? She had no recollection of him and would be wholly unable to identify him if she were to see him again. He had appeared for a moment and disappeared. Nor, in the course of his visit to Matfield Street, had he left any visible clue behind him.