by John Rhode
She opened the cupboard and produced the tin, which bore the label ‘Hewart’s Inhalant. For use with Hewart’s Patent Vaporiser. Not to be taken.’ Hanslet opened the tin and found it half full of a coarse reddish powder.
‘That’s it,’ said Mrs Markle. ‘The chemist gets it for me when the tin is finished. Now, what can Mr Pershore have done with those clothes of his? I’ve been through every drawer, and I can’t see any signs of them anywhere.’
As she spoke, there was a knock on the door, and she went to open it. Hanslet heard her in conversation with somebody outside. ‘Oh, it’s you, Kate! A telegram for me? Is the boy waiting? Oh, on the telephone. I’ll come down and take the message.’
She went downstairs, and Hanslet profited by her absence to abstract a little of the powder from the tin. This he wrapped up in paper and put in his pocket. Scarcely had he done so when Mrs Markle returned, looking very worried.
‘No more bad news, I hope, Mrs Markle?’ Hanslet asked sympathetically.
‘I hope not,’ she replied. ‘The telegram was from Mrs Capel. I took it down as they spoke it to me. Perhaps you’d like to see it?’
Mrs Markle handed him the piece of paper she was holding, on which the message was written in a neat round hand. ‘Betty not with us do not know where she is Capel.’
Hanslet frowned. He had not expected this. Then a bright idea occurred to him. Mrs Sulgrave! She and Miss Rissington seemed pretty thick. She would almost certainly know where this confounded elusive girl had got to. But would she say? It was worth trying. Better let Mrs Markle talk to her, though.
The housekeeper approved of the suggestion. ‘There now!’ she exclaimed. ‘I might have thought of that for myself. I’ll ring up Mrs Sulgrave now. She’s sure to know.’
For the second time she went downstairs, and Hanslet, after locking up the bedroom and dressing-room, followed her. But Mrs Markle’s telephone call was unavailing. Mrs Sulgrave was not at home. She had left on the previous morning, as the result of a telegram she had received from a friend of hers, who had met with a serious accident, somewhere in the north of England.
Hanslet bade a hasty farewell to Mrs Markle, and returned to London. By the time he reached Waterloo, it was after eight o’clock. He consumed a hurried meal in the refreshment room, then made his way to Dr Priestley’s house in Westbourne Terrace, where he arrived just as nine o’clock was striking.
He was shown into the study, where he found the professor, Oldland and Merefield enjoying their coffee. Dr Priestley welcomed him with unwonted urbanity. ‘Ah, you are punctual, superintendent,’ he said. ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Oldland and I have been discussing the evidence which was given at the inquest on Mr Pershore this afternoon.’
‘The medical evidence, you mean?’ Hanslet replied. ‘Did you make anything of it?’
‘I think that Oldland, as a medical man, is better qualified to answer that question than I am,’ said Dr Priestley.
Oldland finished his coffee and put the cup aside. ‘I’ve just been telling Priestley,’ he said. ‘I know Button, who carried out the post-mortem, and I was so struck by what he told the coroner that I buttonholed him afterwards and had a chat with him.
‘Naturally, he opened out to me rather more than he cared to in court, where he was on oath. He’s completely fogged as to the cause of death. He can’t really say more than I was able to say yesterday afternoon. Pershore’s collapse was due to a sudden cessation of the heart’s action. What caused that cessation, there is absolutely nothing to show. Button admits that it is the strangest case he has had to do with.’
‘What about the arsenic he found in the body?’ Hanslet asked.
‘We can’t say anything definite about that until we have the analyst’s report. But Button has had a pretty extensive experience of arsenical poisoning. He told me that he was quite sure, from what he saw, that Pershore had not taken enough arsenic to kill him. Not more than a grain at the most. Further, he thinks that the arsenic must have been taken many hours before his death. And, as Button said at the inquest, arsenic doesn’t cause a sudden collapse, without warning, and after a long interval.’
‘Well, then, could the gas have produced that effect?’
Oldland shook his head. ‘The carbon monoxide poisoning, again, was relatively slight,’ he replied. ‘Button is quite convinced that neither this nor the trifling wound in Pershore’s leg could have caused his sudden death by syncope, and in that I thoroughly agree with him.’
‘Then what the dickens did cause his death?’ asked Hanslet incredulously.
‘As a doctor, and relying upon the medical evidence alone, I should say that death was due to natural causes,’ Oldland replied. ‘There are cases on record in which the heart has stopped for no reason which medical science has been able to ascertain.’
Hanslet shook his head. ‘That won’t do,’ he said. ‘I know of one attempt, and I suspect another, on somebody’s part to murder Mr Pershore. Would it surprise you to hear that I knew, as early as yesterday evening, that arsenic would be found in the body?’
Oldland laughed. ‘Ah, now we’re getting down to it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m quite sure that we shall be deeply interested to hear what you can tell us about that. Eh, Priestley?’
Dr Priestley’s reply was to glance significantly towards his secretary. Merefield hastily provided himself with pencil and paper, and the three composed themselves to listen.
‘I’ll deal with the arsenic first,’ said Hanslet. ‘It’s only by luck that that did not cause the death of a perfectly innocent victim. It’s rather a queer story. I’ll give you the facts, in the order in which I learnt them myself. Yesterday afternoon the Yard received a message from the Weybridge police, saying that there had been a case of arsenical poisoning at a house called Firlands, and asking us to undertake the investigation. I went down there, and this is what I found.’
He gave a detailed account of his visit to Firlands, and its results. Then he produced the report of the analysis of the olives, and gave it to Dr Priestley. ‘That’s what I meant when I said that I knew of one attempt to murder Mr Pershore,’ he concluded.
‘And what did you mean when you said that you suspected another?’ Dr Priestley asked.
‘I went down to Firlands again after the inquest, and made inquiries about the wound. Mrs Markle told me some very remarkable facts. These are they.’ And Hanslet proceeded to recount his experiences during his second visit to Firlands.
‘It certainly looks as if someone had a grudge against Mr Pershore,’ said Oldland, when the superintendent had finished. ‘What do you suppose really happened to him on Saturday night?’
‘Somebody fired a shot-gun at him, that’s pretty certain,’ Hanslet replied. ‘How and why I can’t yet tell. The whole incident is utterly mysterious. What was Pershore doing in the garden at that hour on a frosty night? His yarn about a wasps’ nest is merely absurd. And how did his assailant know that he would be there? He can’t just have been lying in wait, on the odd chance that Pershore would take a moonlight stroll.
‘But that isn’t by any means the queerest thing about it. Pershore’s own actions are what beats me. He gets those pellets in his leg, and what does he do? Raise an alarm? Send for the police? Not a bit of it. He spins Mrs Markle a yarn which even she finds hard to swallow, and goes quietly to bed. Not only that, but he takes every precaution to hide all trace of what has happened to him. The trousers and pants he was wearing can’t be found. No doubt they were bloodstained, and he destroyed them to prevent awkward questions being asked. But why?’
‘Perhaps because he recognised the person who fired at him,’ Oldland replied. ‘Being of a forgiving nature, he didn’t want to get that person into trouble.’
‘From what I can hear of him, his nature was anything but forgiving,’ said Hanslet. ‘He seems to have had a habit of quarrelling with his best friends over nothing. I’ll give you an instance of that later. Now we come to another strange fact. About a
quarter of an hour after the shot had been fired, an agitated female, who does not give her name, rings up and inquires after Pershore’s health. She wants to know if he is “all right.” Rather a curious phrase under the circumstances, I can’t help thinking.’
‘The whole affair is mysterious, as you say,’ Oldland remarked. ‘What’s your opinion, Priestley?’
Dr Priestley, though he had attentively followed Hanslet’s words, had as yet made no comment. But thus directly appealed to, he broke his silence. ‘I do not think that we can assume that the shot was fired with the intention of killing Mr Pershore,’ he said.
‘Why, what was the idea then, professor?’ Hanslet exclaimed. ‘Do you think that Pershore was hit by accident, or that somebody fired at him as a token of their affection?’
‘Let us consider the evidence,’ Dr Priestley replied suavely. ‘A careful study of the facts is always more profitable than conjecture. The spread of the pellets and the depth of their penetration suggest a shot fired at long range.’
‘Ah, but wait a minute, professor,’ Hanslet broke in. ‘Don’t you remember that curious affair at Riddinghithe, a year or so ago? Mightn’t there be something similar in this case?’
‘I will not deny the possibility, but there is no need to assume it. I will only say that, on the facts which are before us, the shot appears to have been fired at long range from a shot-gun. Now, I do not think that anyone would attempt murder at any considerable distance with a shot-gun, especially in the deceptive illumination of a moonlight night. The chances against success would be too great.’
‘All the same, the attempt seems to have been made,’ Hanslet persisted. ‘The pellets were found in Pershore’s leg. You can’t get away from that.’
‘I have no desire to evade the facts. But I feel myself at liberty to place my own interpretation upon them. I believe the motive for the shot was to frighten Mr Pershore, or to deter him from committing some act which he contemplated.
‘This theory, I think, will account for his subsequent actions. On Saturday evening he was performing, or was about to perform, some act which he did not wish revealed. He was seen by the person who fired the shot. He almost certainly knew or guessed the identity of that person. But, if he gave information against him, his own secret would inevitably come to light. His only alternative was to conceal the fact that he had been shot at, and this he appears to have done most effectively. But for his death two days later, the incident would never have been revealed.’
‘Very well, professor, put it that way if you like,’ said Hanslet tolerantly. ‘It doesn’t really make a lot of difference whether the shot was fired with the intention of killing or wounding. But you’ll admit that the person who fired the shot also poisoned the olives?’
‘I am by no means prepared to admit that without further evidence.’
‘Oh, dash it all, there can’t have been two people thirsting independently for Pershore’s blood. Look at the question of motive. I questioned Bryant as to the provisions of his uncle’s will, and this is what he told me. It’s probably the truth, for he knows that I can ascertain the contents of the will, independently of him.’
The superintendent repeated his conversation with Bryant. ‘Now, it seems to me that there are only two people who benefit to any appreciable extent by Pershore’s death,’ he continued. ‘Miss Rissington, who gets the greater part of his fortune, and this chap Sulgrave, whose five-thousand-pound mortgage is cancelled. It may or may not be coincidence, but Miss Rissington and Mrs Sulgrave are apparently great friends. And both of them have disappeared without leaving an address.’
‘Very thoughtless of them’ Oldland muttered. ‘Your idea being that they were in a conspiracy together to murder Pershore?’
Hanslet did not answer this directly. ‘Sulgrave is employed by Comet Cars Ltd,’ he said.
‘And it was on their stand that Pershore died. Have you had a chat with Sulgrave yet?’
‘Not yet. I’ve put Jarrold to keep an eye on him. I want to see if he makes any move of his own.’
‘Did I understand you to say just now that Mr Pershore was of a quarrelsome disposition?’ Dr Priestley asked.
The superintendent repeated Philip Bryant’s account of the misunderstanding which had arisen between Pershore and Hardisen. ‘There may be others besides Hardisen,’ he said. ‘But this isn’t the work of an open enemy, but of somebody living in the house, or with constant access to it. The poisoning of the olives proves that. Besides, if it had been an enemy who fired at him, Pershore wouldn’t have come tamely back into the house with his tail between his legs like that.’
‘What immediate steps do you propose to take?’ asked Dr Priestley?
‘The first thing to do is to find Miss Rissington. She holds the key to the situation, I’m perfectly sure of that. I’m going to take the first train to Colchester in the morning, and interview this Mrs Capel. And if I can’t get anything out of her, I shall have to tackle Sulgrave. I’ll keep you informed of what happens, professor.’
As Hanslet left the house, he remembered the sample of Hewart’s Inhalant, which was still in his pocket. He had become suspicious of everything he found at Firlands. Perhaps the inhalant had been tampered with, as well as the olives.
He therefore went back to Scotland Yard, where he left the sample for analysis.
CHAPTER VI
Next morning, Hanslet caught an early train to Colchester. It was the first chance he had had of thinking things over calmly, and he took full advantage of it.
The case was in many respects unusual. There was no direct evidence to prove that Mr Pershore had been murdered. As Oldland had pointed out, his death might have been due to natural causes. On the other hand, there was already very definite evidence that at least one attempt had been made to murder him. It would be an extraordinary coincidence if he had died a natural death.
The theory which gradually evolved itself in Hanslet’s mind was this. Miss Rissington and the Sulgraves were aware of the contents of Mr Pershore’s will. Since he appeared to have been a healthy and robust person, who might live for another twenty or thirty years, they had therefore decided upon his death.
Their first move had been the poisoning of the olives. Probably Sulgrave had prepared the poison. He had bought a bottle of olives, exactly similar to those favoured by Pershore. Miss Rissington could have given him the necessary information on this point. Mrs Sulgrave had brought the poisoned bottle with her when she lunched at Firlands on Friday, and this had been substituted for the one given by Mrs Markle to Jessie on Wednesday.
The conspirators had probably no very extensive knowledge of poisons. They might have expected a single olive to be fatal. So that when Pershore turned up bright and smiling to breakfast on Saturday morning, they were more than a little flabbergasted. Miss Rissington communicated with the Sulgraves, and was asked to come over to dinner, so that a fresh plan could be concocted.
She knew that her uncle would be prowling about the garden at nine o’clock. Would it not be possible to take advantage of this? Sulgrave thought it would. He drove over to Firlands with a gun, lay in wait for Pershore, and fired at him. He did not wait to see the effects of his shot, but drove straight back to High Elms.
Here he found the two women impatiently awaiting his return. Mrs Sulgrave could not endure the suspense. She rang up and made inquiries. She asked if Mr Pershore was all right. Nobody would use that phrase unless they had a suspicion that he was not all right. She must have been dumbfounded when she learnt that he was apparently unharmed.
What happened next? A further consultation among the party at High Elms, of course. And the result of the conference was a decision that Sulgrave should try his hand again. He saw a means of murdering Pershore if he could entice him to the Comet stand at Olympia. There would be no great difficulty about that. Sulgrave would send him a ticket for the Motor Show, and ask him to come and see him on Stand 1001.
Pershore, with his avowed lack of interest in c
ars, might have refused. But Miss Rissington saw to it that he didn’t. She kept on at him about buying a car. Even if he didn’t want to get one at once, there could be no harm in his acceptance of Sulgrave’s invitation. At last, for the sake of peace, he agreed to do this.
A very nice, closely-knit theory, Hanslet thought. He would do his best to verify it, point by point. It seemed to leave only one question unanswered. By what mysterious means had Sulgrave achieved his end?
The train reached Colchester. Hanslet took a taxi and drove to the address which Mrs Markle had given him. There he found Mrs Capel in a great state of excitement. She had seen the Daily Telegraph of that morning, in which appeared not only the notice of Mr Pershore’s death, but a short account of the inquest.
‘It’s a terrible thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t know what Betty will do when she hears of it. She was absolutely devoted to her uncle. I can’t say that I was very much attached to Nahum Pershore myself. I always had a sort of feeling that he wasn’t altogether to be trusted. And he had a violent temper, which made him say the most outrageous things. He was very rude to my husband once, and they’ve never spoken since.’
This was instructive, but it was not what Hanslet had come to inquire about. ‘I am very anxious to get in touch with Miss Rissington,’ he said. ‘She was overheard to tell her uncle that she was coming to stay with you last Monday.’
‘I’m afraid that must be true,’ Mrs Capel replied. ‘I had a letter from her on Monday, telling me that she was supposed to be coming here, but that I shouldn’t see her till the end of the week.’
That letter must have been written after the conference at High Elms on Saturday night. This conformed with the superintendent’s theory. ‘You say that Miss Rissington was devoted to her uncle,’ he said. ‘Why then did she tell him that she was coming here on Monday, when she had no intention of doing so until some days later?’
‘Well, you see, Nahum Pershore was apt to be difficult in some ways. If he took a dislike to people, he expected Betty to do the same. It was ridiculous, of course, but Betty had to humour him. You see, she has practically no money of her own, and depends upon the allowance he made her. And, besides, it has always been understood that she would come into his money.’