Behold, Here's Poison ih-2

by Джорджетт Хейер

Dr Fielding had come home to lunch, and within five minutes he was at the Poplars, following Guy upstairs to Miss Matthews' room. Mrs Matthews was standing at the foot of the bed, and greeted him with composure, but in a hushed voice. “I think my sister-in-law must have had a stroke, doctor. I haven't tried to do anything for her, as I thought it would be wiser to wait until you came. I have thought for some little while that she wasn't quite herself, but of course I never dreamed of anything like this happening. Poor Harriet! I'm afraid my brother-in-law's death was —”

  Dr Fielding straightened himself. “Mrs Matthews, your sister-in-law is dead,” he said harshly. “She has been dead for as much as two hours, I should say. Why was I not called in before?”

  “Dead!” Mrs Matthews repeated, and bowed her head slightly, covering her eyes with one hand.

  Guy said: “We'd no idea! How could we have had? She said she felt seedy. We thought she'd eaten something that had disagreed with her. I tell you, there didn't seem to be anything the matter with her, did there, mother?”

  “Nothing,” Mrs Matthews said in a low voice. “A trifle bilious. I gave her some of my own medicine, and put her to bed. She just wanted to be quiet.”

  “What did she complain of?” Fielding asked.

  “Nothing that could lead one to suppose—”She said she lilt giddy, and that her head ached.”

  “Any sickness?”

  “She had a slight feeling of sickness, which was why I gave her my medicine. It is an excellent prescription —”

  “Did she complain of any sensation of cramp? Any shivering in the extremities, or creeping in the arms? Did she seem to you to have difficulty in breathing?”

  Mrs Matthews shook her head. “Oh, no, no! If there had been anything like that I should have sent for you at once! She seemed better after taking the medicine. She was drowsy, and I tucked her up, and left her to have a sleep. I am such a firm believer in the healing qualities of —”

  “Fielding, what did she die of?” Guy demanded.

  The doctor looked from one to the other of them, his own face set into hard lines. “It is impossible for me to answer that question without performing a post-mortem examination.”

  Mrs Matthews laid her hands on the bed-rail, and grasped it nervously. “Surely that cannot be necessary!” she said. “It is so obvious to me that she must have had a stroke! The shock of her brother's death —”

  “It is not obvious to me, Mrs Matthews. I am sorry, but I cannot undertake to sign a certificate. This is a case for the Coroner.”

  “Oh, my God!” groaned Guy.

  Mrs Matthews said in a shaking voice: “It's absurd! My sister-in-law has been through a great deal, and she was not a young woman. Moreover, I myself have noticed signs of failing health in her for some time past.”

  “Look here, you've got to tell us!” said Guy, taking a step towards the doctor. “What do you suspect?”

  Fielding met his angry stare with cold severity. “I suspect that Miss Matthews has been poisoned,” he replied.

  “It's a damned lie!” said Guy.

  “Hush, Guy!” Mrs Matthews said mechanically. “It is ridiculous, of course, quite ridiculous. Who could have wanted to poison poor Harriet? If it were not so terrible it would be almost laughable! But to subject us all to the horror of another inquest—really, doctor, don't you think you are letting yourself —”

  “Mrs Matthews, I must decline to discuss it with you. I was not attending your sister-in-law at the time of her death; I was not called in when she was first taken ill. I could not reconcile it with my conscience to sign a certificate under such circumstances. Now, if you will please go downstairs, both of you, I will lock this room up until the police come to take charge.”

  “You cannot have thought what this will mean to us,” Mrs Matthews said. “The scandal—so unnecessary, so dreadful for everybody concerned! You can't seriously think that anyone would dream of poisoning Harriet! Good heavens, what possible object could anybody have for doing such a thing?”

  The doctor shrugged. “That is not a question for me, Mrs Matthews. I can only tell you that I am very far from satisfied that Miss Matthews died a natural death.”

  Guy took his mother's arm. “Come downstairs, mother. It's no use arguing. If he's not satisfied, it's got to go to the police,” he said.

  She let him lead her out of the room, and down the stairs; the doctor locked the door on the outside, and withdrew the key, and would have followed Mrs Matthews at once had not Stella got up from the chair on the landing where all the time she had been sitting. She said: “Deryk, for God's sake tell me! You don't really think that? I didn't come in, but I heard all you said. She can't have been poisoned!”

  “I'm sorry,” he answered in his professional voice. “But I can't help it, you know.”

  “If it hadn't been for, uncle's death you'd never have suspected poison!” Stella said.

  “The cases are not the same,” he replied. “Your uncle was already suffering from heart-trouble. Miss Matthews, when last I was called in to attend her, had nothing wrong with her heart or her blood-pressure. If your uncle were alive today I should still consider Miss Matthews' death extraordinary.”

  “But, Deryk, Aunt Harriet! Who could want to kill her? Deryk, are you sure you aren't making a mistake?”

  “Stella, I've told you I'm very sorry, but I can't help you. The matter must be reported to the Coroner immediately. My duty is perfectly clear.”

  “But what are we going to do?” Stella said, wringing her hands together.

  He said uncomfortably: “No one will think you had anything to do with it. Look here, I've got to go and report this. Try not to worry!” He added again: “I'm awfully sorry!” and hurried away downstairs.

  Mrs Matthews had gone into the library, and was sitting on the sofa there, one hand fidgeting nervously with the pleats of her frock, the other gripping her handkerchief. Guy had gone over to the window, and was looking out. He heard Dr Fielding speak to Beecher in the hall, and then pick up the telephone-receiver, and he stole a glance at his mother. She did not seem to be attending; her mouth was folded tightly, her eyes were fixed on the opposite wall.

  The doctor went away, and presently Beecher came in, looking pale and shocked. In a low voice, and keeping his eyes downcast, he wanted to know whether Mrs Matthews desired her lunch.

  She did not move or answer. Guy said: “Mother!”

  She was recalled to her surroundings with a slight start, and looked blankly from Guy to the butler. “Lunch?” she repeated. “Oh! No, I don't think I could swallow anything. You and Stella go, dear.”

  “I don't want any either,” said Guy. “And I don't suppose Stella does.”

  The butler bowed, and withdrew again. Mrs Matthews dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “I don't seem able to realise it,” she said. “Harriet gone! I shall miss her terribly.”

  Guy turned a shade paler, and said: “For God's sake, mother, don't!”

  “Of course, I know she was often very, very tiresome,” Mrs Matthews continued, “but one gets used to people, somehow. I can't imagine this house without her. I feel dreadfully upset.”

  “Mother, what's the use of talking like that? Don't you realise? The police will be here at any minute! What are we going to tell them?”

  Mrs Matthews looked at him in silence for a moment, and then said, more in her normal manner: “Dear boy, we shall tell them exactly what happened. We did everything we could, and you must remember that it is by no means proved that poor Harriet was poisoned. Personally I feel sure she had a stroke.”

  Stella came into the room, still rather white, but quite calm. She stood on the threshold, and said: “Aunt Gertrude ought to be told. Shall I ring her up?”

  “Darling, if only you would allow me to be quiet for just a little time!” her mother said. “You neither of you seem to think of what I must be feeling. We did not always agree, but Harriet and I —”

  “Aunt Gertrude's her sister. She ought to b
e told,” Stella repeated.

  Mrs Matthews made a gesture of resignation. “Tell anyone you please, only don't keep on worrying me when you can see how upset I am.”

  Stella went out again, Mrs Matthews leaned her head in her hand and murmured: “I really don't think I feel up to seeing Gertrude. I believe I'll go to my room, and lie down.”

  “You'll have to see her,” Guy answered. “She'll insist—she's bound to.”

  Stella came back in a few moments, and said curtly that Mrs Lupton was coming at once.

  “What did she say?” Guy asked.

  “Nothing much. Utterly taken aback at first. Then she just said she'd come round. She'll be here in about ten minutes.”

  They sat down to wait. After what seemed an age they heard the hush of tyres on the gravel-drive, and in another minute or two Mrs Lupton walked into the room.

  It was a relief to find, in a world become suddenly distorted, that Mrs Lupton was still herself. She swept a glance round the room, and said in a voice of outraged majesty: “What is all this nonsense Stella tried to tell me?”

  “It's true,” Guy said. “Aunt Harriet's dead.”

  Mrs Lupton said: “Impossible! I don't believe it!” Then, as though the inutility of these words dawned on her, she added: “It is incredible! I hardly know what I am saying. How did it happen? She was well enough last night!”

  “It must have been a stroke,” Mrs Matthews answered. “I said so the instant I saw her. The worry of Gregory's death—it was all too much for her.”

  “A stroke! Harriet?” Mrs Lupton looked from her sister-in-law to her nephew. She moved towards a chair, and sat down in it. “Kindly tell me at once what has happened here!” she commanded.

  “She said she felt seedy at breakfast,” Guy said jerkily. “We thought she'd eaten something that disagreed with her.”

  “Very likely,” said his aunt. “But I have yet to learn that indigestion can be the cause of death. Go on!”

  “She went up to her room, to lie down. Stella found her at lunch-time.”

  “Dead?” Mrs Lupton asked on a note of horror. “Yes.”

  Mrs Lupton put up a hand to her eyes. “This is terrible!” she announced. “First Gregory, then Harriet! I do not know what to say. I am completely bowled over. My poor sister! I do not seem able to grasp it. Did you say she had a stroke?”

  “We think it must have been that,” Mrs Matthews replied. “And I suppose we should be thankful the end was so quick and painless.”

  “The end!” Mrs Lupton exclaimed indignantly. “Good heavens, Zoë, you talk as though my unfortunate sister had been a hopeless invalid! She was perfectly healthy! She should have had many years to live!”

  Stella blurted out: “There's going to be a post-mortem. Deryk thinks she was poisoned.”

  There was a defensive note in her voice, but Mrs Lupton rather surprisingly said after a moment's blank silence: “Rubbish!”

  A little sigh broke from Mrs Matthews. She said: “Of course it is rubbish. But it is very, very painful for all of us, none the less.”

  “I have no opinion of Dr Fielding,” pronounced Mrs Lupton. “Pray, how does he presume to diagnose a case of poisoning when he was totally unable to detect it in Gregory's death? And who wanted to poison poor Harriet, I should like to know? I am not aware of anyone, except you, Zoë, having the least motive for doing such a thing.”

  “That'll do, thanks!” Guy said harshly. “Mother had no motive, none that would satisfy any jury in the world!”

  “I can respect your championship of your mother,” replied Mrs Lupton with a certain grimness, “but you would be better employed in facing the facts as they are. Your mother had a certain motive for poisoning my poor sister—not that I accuse her of having done it, for I cannot suppose that she would have been fool enough to take such a risk while the police are still investigating your uncle's death. But if you think that the police will not make very particular inquiries into her movements today you are living in a fool's paradise, my dear Guy, and the sooner you cease to do so the better it will be for you!”

  Mrs Matthews arose from the sofa, and said tragically: “I can only hope, Gertrude, that you don't realise what you are saying. I don't think you know how deeply you have wounded me. I am going to my room now. Somehow I don't feel I can bear any more.”

  Mrs Lupton made no effort to detain her. She watched her go out of the room, and then herself rose, and announced that she wished to see her sister's body.

  “Fielding's locked the room up,” Guy said briefly.

  Mrs Lupton's bosom swelled. “Dr Fielding takes a great deal upon himself!” she said. “In my opinion he is an officious and an incompetent young jackanapes!”

  That seemed to dispose of Dr Fielding. Mrs Lupton, promising to give him a piece of her mind at the first opportunity, laid a strict charge on her nephew to notify her by telephone of whatever should happen next, and left the Poplars.

  Not until Miss Matthews' body had been removed did Mrs Matthews come downstairs again. As though by tacit consent, neither Stella nor Guy, alone in the library, made any attempt to discuss the cause of their aunt's death, but when Mrs Matthews reappeared she opened the subject by saying as she entered the room: “I have been thinking about it all very deeply, and I feel more than ever convinced that poor Harriet had a stroke. You know, she has not been herself ever since Gregory was taken from us. When the police come we must tell them the truth just as simply as possible. We have none of us anything to hide, and I do so want you, my dears, to be your natural selves, and not to behave in any silly, exaggerated way that might make anyone who didn't know you as I do think that you were afraid of something coming out.”

  Stella raised her eyes. “What are we to say, mother?”

  Mrs Matthews returned the look with one of her limpid gazes. “Dearest, Stella, I don't understand you. You must just tell the police exactly what you know.”

  “And the medicine you gave her? You told Deryk, mother.”

  “Naturally I told him, dear, and it goes without saying that I shall tell the police, and let them see the bottle for themselves.”

  Guy turned his head. “It hasn't come to that yet. We don't know that this is a matter for the police until after the post-mortem. Fielding was wrong before, and he may be wrong now.”

  “Of course,” Mrs Matthews agreed. “I was only thinking of what we should do if the worst happened. Please don't run away with the idea that I believe your aunt was poisoned!”

  Beecher came into the room. He still looked rather shaken, and he spoke in an expressionless voice which made Stella think, He's going to give notice: they all will. “Mr Rumbold has called, madam, and would like to see you.”

  “Show him in,” said Mrs Matthews.

  It was evident that Rumbold had heard the news. He looked even more shocked than Beecher. He said, not in his usual calm way, but with a note of horror in his voice: “Mrs Matthews, I have just heard—It can't be true!”

  Mrs Matthews held out her hand, but turned her face away. “Yes, my dear friend, it is true,” she said. “We can scarcely believe it ourselves. My poor, poor sister-in-law!”

  He clasped her hand, and continued to hold it, half unconsciously. “Your housemaid told our cook—but I couldn't think it possible! I don't know what to say. That poor, unfortunate woman —”

  Guy wheeled round to face him. “Mr Rumbold, we think there can be no doubt that my aunt had a stroke!” he said.

  Rumbold looked quickly across at him. “A stroke! Is that Fielding's verdict?”

  “Fielding's a fool. He doesn't know what caused my aunt's death, but we are quite sure it must have been a stroke.”

  Rumbold released Mrs Matthews' hand, glancing down at her with an expression of foreboding in his face. “What did Fielding say?” he asked. “Tell me, Mrs Matthews!”

  They had none of them heard him speak so sternly before. Mrs Matthews answered: “It is all too dreadful, Mr Rumbold! Dr Fielding thinks that
Harriet was poisoned.”

  “Did you ever hear of anything so far-fetched, sir?” demanded Guy.

  Rumbold looked at him for a moment, but he did not speak.

  “Mr Rumbold, no one could have wanted to poison her!” Stella said urgently. “You can't think that one of us—one of us —”

  At that he said quickly: “No, no, my dear child, of course not! Good God, no! But if Fielding suspects poison—It is too appalling!”

  Guy, still standing by the window, said suddenly: “Superintendent Hannasyde and that Sergeant-fellow are coming up the drive now.”

  Mrs Matthews gave a start. “Oh, Guy, no! Not yet!”

  He moved across the room to her side. “It's all right, Mummy,” he said. “I expect it's only to make inquiries. They can't do anything—I mean, they don't know yet that Aunt Harriet was poisoned.”

  “Don't keep on saying that she was poisoned!” Mrs Matthews cried, as though her nerves were snapping. “She wasn't! She couldn't have been!” She turned with an effort to Edward Rumbold. “Please don't go!” she said faintly. “I have no one to advise me—I feel quite shattered!”

  “I'll do anything I can to help you,” he answered. “You must be perfectly open with the Superintendent—I'm sure you will be. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

  The door opened. “The police are here, madam,” said Beecher, in a voice of doom.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mrs Matthews saw that both her children were watching her. She straightened in her chair, smiled, and turned her head to speak to the butler. “Very well, Beecher,” she said, her voice once more smooth and controlled. “Show them in here, please.”

  A moment later Hannasyde came into the room.

  Mrs Matthews bowed slightly. “Good-afternoon, Superintendent. You wish to see me?”

  “I wish to ask you some questions, Mrs Matthews, about Miss Harriet Matthews' death.”

  She raised her brows. “Surely you are a little premature in assuming that my sister-in-law's death is a case for the police?”

  Hannasyde looked steadily down at her, and replied: “Have you any objections to answering my questions, Mrs Matthews?”