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Malice Aforethought

Page 22

by Francis Iles


  Oh, God, though . . . Suppose Lydston hadn’t administered it at all.

  Suppose he had been only pretending. And Chatford had been only pretending too. Suppose the thing had been a trap, arranged by the police, in the hope that Dr. Bickleigh would bring something for administration which they could get their filthy hands on, and so find out the cause of the trouble that way. And that was exactly what he had done. He had walked straight into it.

  It was all up.

  Absolutely all up. How they must be chuckling now. What was he to do?

  Oh, God. . . .

  Dr. Bickleigh banged on the table with his fist. This was getting too absurd. Of course nothing of the sort had happened. It was this damned imagination of his. Chatford had swallowed the capsule. He had seen him with his own eyes.

  Had he seen him? He lived the scene through, staring intently down the table. Yes: Chatford must have swallowed it. Must have.

  Very well, then. That was enough of this silly panicking. It was no good going on like this. Nobody suspected anything. And, even if they did, it didn’t matter; because they would never be able to prove anything. Neither about Julia nor anything else. He had covered his tracks too well for that.

  But there was no harm in taking reasonable precautions. The incubator, for instance. That might prove an awkward piece of evidence. It would not be wanted any more. Better destroy it, just in case.

  And there’s no time like the present.

  He jumped to his feet, his overstrung nerves welcoming action.

  As he passed through the hall, Mrs. Holne called to him from the kitchen, “Are you ready for your tea, sir?”

  “I’ve had it, thank you, Mrs. Holne.”

  “Very well, sir. Oh, and the man came about the cistern, sir, and he said . . .” Mrs. Holne’s words faded into silence as he ran up the stairs, two at a time. What man about what cistern? He could not be bothered with cisterns at the moment. When you’ve got a job in hand, do it.

  He threw open the door of the attic and advanced confidently—till a sudden realisation brought him up short in his tracks, with blanched face and incredulous eyes.

  The incubator had gone.

  5

  THAT EVENING three men came to see Dr. Bickleigh.

  He received them calmly, for he had known they would be coming. Every moment of the interview before him, every possible development, he had gone over again and again in the interval that had been allowed him. Now that the time had come he was surprised to notice how cool he was.

  Chief Inspector Russell entered first, then another equally large man, and then a tall, military-looking man who shut the door behind them. Dr. Bickleigh, a minnow among these Tritons, looked at them enquiringly.

  The Chief Inspector indicated the second man. “This is Superintendent Allhayes from Exeter, doctor,” he said, with the greatest geniality. “He’s got something to say to you.”

  “Yes?” said Dr. Bickleigh politely, and looked puzzled. But his heart had given a sudden jump. Surely they were not going to . . . “Look here, come into my consulting-room, won’t you?”

  Superintendent Allhayes, a stolid man, intimated that perhaps that might be a sound move. The quartette trooped into the consulting-room. The third man stationed himself by the door in an unpleasantly ominous manner.

  Superintendent Allhayes began to speak. He spoke in a curious, sing-song voice, with his eyes half closed. Quite obviously he had learnt his words off by heart. Dr. Bickleigh felt a foolish wish to giggle, he looked so funny.

  “Enquiries have been made concerning the recent illnesses of Mrs. Madeleine Bourne and Mr. William Chatford after taking tea with you here on the 14th instant. They were taken ill shortly after they left you on that date with violent sickness and other symptoms. These symptoms agree with the symptoms of gastroenteritis, such as might be caused by contaminated food. Acting on instructions from me, Detective-Sergeant Tanner of Scotland Yard made a search this afternoon of your dust-bin. In it he found a half-consumed jar of potted meat, which has since been shown to contain germs which might have caused such illnesses. It is therefore necessary to enquire whether, and if so how, and by whom, this contaminated potted meat might have been added to the food partaken of at your tea-party. It has occurred to me, therefore, that you might like to make a statement regarding your own actions on the 14th instant, why Mr. and Mrs. Bourne and Mr. Chatford were asked to tea, as to what you know of this contaminated potted meat, and any other observations which you might like to make and which might throw light on the matter; but I must add that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence hereafter.” He stopped, and looked at Dr. Bickleigh with eyes suddenly quite open.

  “Certainly I’ll tell you anything I can,” Dr. Bickleigh replied easily. He was feeling quite weak with relief. Not a word about Julia! Not a single word. They must have decided to drop that. Seen that it was hopeless. Well, what could they have proved, in any case? Nothing. As for this other matter—well, somehow or other that seemed very small beer compared with Julia. Besides, Chatford wasn’t dead yet.

  “There’s a good deal too much of this contaminated food going about.” He had decided already to feign complete ignorance of the grim implications in the Superintendent’s words. His attitude should be the perfectly normal one of a doctor in consultation with the police on a matter of public welfare. That would be far the best. Besides, it was inconceivable that they could arrest him. Even including the incubator, they had no real evidence at all. They were only trying to frighten some admission out of him. Well, they had come to the wrong man for that kind of thing. “I was afraid there was something wrong with that particular jar as soon as I smelt it. But perhaps you’d like me to begin at the beginning?”

  “If you please,” said the Superintendent, and nodded towards the door. Detective-Sergeant Tanner came forward, seated himself at the table, and produced some sheets of paper and a fountain-pen. “Now, doctor.”

  Dr. Bickleigh, in a perfectly collected manner, began to speak. “The jar of potted meat was bought by my housekeeper, Mrs.—”

  “Excuse me, doctor,” interrupted the Superintendent. “If you wouldn’t mind beginning by saying that I cautioned you before you said anything. Just to be on the safe side for me.”

  “Certainly,” Dr. Bickleigh agreed amiably. “Of course. ‘I should like to say first of all that—’ ”

  “Suppose you began something like this. “ ‘I, Edmund Alfred Bickleigh, having been cautioned by Superintendent Allhayes that anything I may say may be used in evidence hereafter, wish to make the following statement.’ ”

  “That will do very well,” nodded Dr. Bickleigh, leaning against the mantelpiece.

  Detective-Sergeant Tanner at the table wrote busily.

  “Got that?” Dr. Bickleigh asked. “ ‘The jar of potted meat was bought’—no, better say: ‘The jar of potted meat which has since proved to be contaminated was bought by my—’ ”

  “Sorry to interrupt, doctor,” remarked Chief Inspector Russell in friendly tones, “but what about putting that in later, when you come to it? I should suggest you begin by giving an account of your acquaintance with Mr. Chatford and Mr. and Mrs. Bourne.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Well, it’d look better, don’t you think?”

  “Just as you like. Though it seems rather irrelevant to me. Well, then: ‘I have known Mr. Chatford for some years. He was—’ ”

  “Relations always friendly?” remarked the Chief Inspector, studying the ceiling with apparently great interest.

  “Perfectly.”

  “Well, I should mention that.”

  “ ‘Our relations have always been perfectly friendly; and—’ ”

  “Until his marriage, eh?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “You were telling me last night he married an old flame of yours,” said Chief Inspector Russell most jovially.

  “Oh, well.” Dr. Bickleigh smiled.
The Chief Inspector smiled too. Only the stolid austerity of Superintendent Allhayes failed to relax before this human touch. “But that didn’t affect our relations with each other in the least.”

  “Oh, come, doctor. Not when you were still sweet on her yourself ?”

  Dr. Bickleigh’s smile broadened. So that was the motive they were trying to hang on him, was it? Remove Chatford, and Ivy would be free. Clever of them to have got more or less the right one. But not so clever as he could be in demolishing it completely. Come, the ordeal was not going to be so bad if they couldn’t produce anything better than this. “But I wasn’t,” he said gently. “Not in the least. If I had been I should have married her myself. My wife was no longer alive at the time of Mr. Chatford’s marriage, you must remember. ‘Our relations have always been perfectly friendly, and have continued so till the present day.’ ”

  “Oh, but one minute, doctor,” said the Chief Inspector reproachfully. “You really can’t put it quite like that, can you? Not when you were telling me last night how he hates you, what with that grudge you mentioned and so on. You can’t say the relations between the two of you have remained friendly till the present day.”

  “Oh, well, put in ‘on my part.’ That’s perfectly true.”

  Detective-Sergeant Tanner looked up enquiringly. “ ‘Have continued so on my part’?”

  “Yes.”

  It went on.

  The officers had arrived at twenty minutes past nine. At a quarter to one Dr. Bickleigh suggested an adjournment till the following day, or rather, till later in the same day.

  “I’m sorry, doctor,” returned the Superintendent unsmilingly. “It’s our rule that statements must be taken straight through without a break.”

  “But we shall be here till daybreak at this rate, if you keep on questioning every single thing I say.”

  “Oh, really, doctor,” protested Chief Inspector Russell. “Come now, sir, you can’t say that. We only make a suggestion occasionally, to see you do yourself justice.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s very likely, isn’t it?” Dr. Bickleigh snapped. “Well, if we must go on, I suppose we must; but, anyhow, I’m going to have a drink and some biscuits. I’ll get the decanter.”

  “Now that’s what I call a really good idea,” observed the Chief Inspector with enthusiasm. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  “Oh, I can manage; no need for you to bother.”

  “It’s no bother at all, doctor,” returned Russell almost affectionately, and accompanied Dr. Bickleigh out of the room.

  At ten minutes past three the statement was finished.

  At Superintendent Allhayes’ request, the Sergeant read it through, in a flat, entirely expressionless voice.

  “I, Edmund Alfred Bickleigh, having been cautioned by Superintendent Allhayes that anything I say may be used in evidence hereafter, wish to make the following statement:

  “ ‘I have known Mr. Chatford for some years. Our relations have always been perfectly friendly, and have continued so on my part till the present day. Mrs. Bourne I have only known for about two years. She was a friend of my wife’s, and I used to see her a good deal when my wife was alive, but since her marriage I have scarcely seen her at all. Mr. Dennis Bourne I have known for about ten years, but never very well. I had not invited Mr. Chatford to tea on the 14th; he suggested it himself. I had invited him previously, to discuss a legal matter of some fishing rights in which I am interested, but he had been unable to come. I did invite Mr. and Mrs. Bourne on the 14th. My reason was that there had been a slight coolness between us, which I thought too petty to continue, and I wished to put an end to it. I invited Mr. and Mrs. Bourne after I knew Mr. Chatford was coming, because I thought his presence would ease things and the legal business was not so important that it could not wait a few days.

  “ ‘On the day in question, Mr. and Mrs. Bourne arrived first, and I took them into my garden and showed them my roses. Mr. Chatford arrived at about 4.40 p.m., and we all then went into the drawing-room, where tea was at once served. The food was on plates on a wicker cake-stand. The food consisted of buttered buns, potted meat sandwiches, and a cherry cake. I remember Mr. Chatford said that he was very fond of potted meat sandwiches, and he ate several of them. We all ate the sandwiches, but Mr. Chatford ate most. Mrs. Bourne ate least. So far as I remember, everybody partook of all the food that was present. No sandwiches were left on the plate. I fancied I detected a slightly unpleasant taste in one of the sandwiches I ate, but I did not remark on it. I did not attach any importance to it. I remember Mr. Chatford saying that he was working very hard at the time, and that his wife had gone to Spain for a holiday and he wished he could have gone with her. As a medical man I consider that, if he was in a state of exhaustion through overwork, he would be especially liable to an attack of gastro-enteritis if any irritant were introduced into his stomach. This is my opinion now. I did not know before he told me that he was overworked.

  “ ‘All the food which was served had been prepared by Mrs. Holne, my housekeeper. She had bought the jar of potted meat, but I cannot say where. She cut and prepared the sandwiches, and to the best of my knowledge they were not out of her observation from the time she made them till we all arrived in the drawing-room for tea. I did not ask her this, but in the ordinary course of her duties it would be so. After my guests had gone I was speaking to Mrs. Holne on some other matter, and mentioned to her that I had thought one of the sandwiches tasted peculiar. I asked her to fetch me the pot. She did so, and we both smelt it. It seemed to both of us to smell a little bad. Mrs. Holne seemed to think this more strongly than I did. I still did not attach very much importance to the fact, but to be on the safe side I suggested that the unconsumed portion of the contents had better be thrown away. I threw it in the dust-bin myself. I am not in the least surprised to learn now that the potted meat has been found to be contaminated and unfit for consumption. I can suggest no other explanation of how it came to be so beyond the obvious one that it was in that state when bought.

  “ ‘I am interested in chemical and similar experiments. Such research-work as a practitioner in general practice can undertake has always been a hobby of mine. I was reading recently an account of how the gas masks used for our troops in the war were manufactured, and this caused me to experiment with passing chlorine through a solution of sodium thiosulphate. I have never conducted any experiments involving arsenic. I have never handled arsenic in any form except the Fowler’s solution which I keep in my surgery. In connection with my experiments I ordered an incubator a few weeks ago from Messrs. Rabbage & Co., Wigmore Street, London. I do not know the exact date. It was about the time that I had a case of botulism under my observation here. My purpose in ordering the incubator was to conduct certain experiments in bio-chemistry. I am interested in the action of the digestive juices on certain articles of diet, and wished to carry out tests of my own. I did carry out these tests, and verified certain conclusions which I had formed. That was some weeks ago. The last occasion on which I used the incubator was after my guests had gone on the 14th. It occurred to me that it would be an interesting experiment to ascertain if the potted meat that had been used for the sandwiches was really contaminated or not. I therefore went out to the dustbin and took a sample from the pot, which I afterwards again threw away. I then prepared a culture to the best of my ability, from the sample of potted meat, of any bacilli which might have been inhabiting it. It was my intention to send a portion of the culture up to some eminent bacteriologist for identification of the bacilli, if any. I have myself no practical experience of bacteriology, but I have a rudimentary knowledge of its principles. I have not the apparatus necessary to effect an identification myself, nor am I competent to separate a particular bacillus; but I thought it an interesting experiment to endeavour to make a culture. I was more than doubtful whether there were any bacilli in the potted meat at all, but I thought it worth trying as an experiment. On the 15th I separated a portion of the culture, which I enclose
d in a large capsule, with a view to examining it later under the microscope in my surgery to see if I could make out whether it was ready to send away. The idea of enclosing it in a capsule occurred to me because I was preparing another capsule containing a strong dose of jalap and cream of tartar for Mr. Chatford, after I had been called in for a consultation on his case by Dr. Lydston. It occurred to me then that a capsule would form an excellent temporary container for a portion of the jelly holding a certain group of bacilli, as it could be sealed without disturbing the jelly and so prevent contamination from the atmosphere. I had also the idea of making a purer culture of this particular group, which I had not identified, and it was therefore necessary to separate it from the rest before it could be overrun by a more powerful organism. Owing to pressure of work and other matters, I have not yet had time to examine the group. So far as I know, the capsule containing the portion of culture is still where I left it yesterday, in a pill-box filled with cottonwool in the right-hand top drawer of the surgery dresser. I have no reason to suppose that it could be anywhere else.

  “ ‘During the night of the 14th I was taken ill. Since my wife died I live alone, and therefore had to attend to myself as best I could. I attributed my illness to having eaten something which disagreed with me, but instead of the abdominal pain, accompanied by violent sickness and purging, which as a medical man I should have expected in such a case, my symptoms were almost entirely of a paralytic nature. This led me to diagnose an attack of botulism. Having recently had a case of botulism under my observation, I am conversant with its symptoms. As soon as I was sufficiently recovered to go downstairs I took a large dose of jalap and cream of tartar, which my experience has shown me is the most effective way of combating this disease. I very soon obtained relief, and by further treatment succeeded in eliminating the poison from my system. Fortunately my attack was a mild one, and by the next morning I was almost completely recovered, though I was unable to eat any breakfast.

 

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