by Richard Hull
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Blayton, I hope I didn’t interrupt you.” Mr. Justice Smith recovered from his fit of sneezing. “You were saying?”
“Not at all, my lord. I was referring to the care and intelligence of Dr. Gardiner. He will be here later to give you his evidence”—Blayton got into his stride again—“and he will tell you how from the very first moment he doubted whether Henry Cargate’s death was in reality the simple case of heart failure that to a less astute person it might have appeared. His doubts were instantly aroused by the aroma in the carriage which he immediately detected as quite different from that of the flowers which happened to be close to the window of the carriage in which the unfortunate deceased man was. That smell was familiar to Dr. Gardiner. It at once reminded him of what, as you will hear later, it turned out to be—potassium cyanide, a deadly poison to men as well as to wasps. With that Dr. Gardiner’s mind was made up with a rapidity and a decisiveness which must be characteristic of the man. And thereupon he acted, straightaway, and with skill and forethought.”
In the jury box John Ellis put his left hand under his chin and tugged at the flesh underneath, a habit which certainly was characteristic of him when he wanted to express mild doubt and disapproval. To himself he murmured a single line of verse: “The carpenter said nothing but ‘The butter’s spread too thick’.” But a glance at the eleven other jurymen made him suspect that it was not too thick for them. He alone of the jury was not fully East Anglian, a district which was to him just a dormitory. But the others were glad to hear so much praise of a local man, more especially as they were well aware that “those London police” had been called in instead of their own constabulary, and they were inclined to think that that was a mistake. Therefore, they breathed heavily and prepared to welcome Blayton’s further remarks.
The effect was not lost on counsel for the Crown (for Ellis alone was in any way capable of concealing his opinions) and therefore he went on happily:
“The action which Dr. Gardiner took was to retain the snuffbox and to procure quite a quantity of the powder on the floor, so that the one could subsequently be analysed, and the other examined and such traces of snuff as lingered in it, be also analysed. Moreover, he achieved all this in such a manner that no one, neither the station officials nor Miss Knox Forster were aware that he had done so, and therefore everyone both at the station and at Scotney End Hall, including even the accused, was for some while under the happy impression that with the washing of the coach every trace of the crime had been removed. And note that Dr. Gardiner suggested to the stationmaster that that should be done, and did so publicly, since he knew that everything of value had been removed from the carriage without anyone knowing that that had been done.
“Having thus acted, as I have said, with forethought, decision and promptitude, Dr. Gardiner then took the snuffbox and the envelope containing the precious sample of the powder to the Coroner of the district and communicated to him what he knew. He pointed out that, although he had not analysed the powder, he had the very gravest suspicion of it, and with that he considered very properly that the matter was out of his hands. In due course the Chief Constable was notified, and decided for reasons which need not concern us, to call in the assistance of Scotland Yard. Of the action which they took you will hear in due course from Inspector Fenby.
“We shall submit to you, in accordance with the statement of the butler, that the particular snuffbox was cleaned out on the morning of Thursday, July 12th, and that snuff, fresh from a new tin, was placed in it at that time, and that therefore we have only to consider who could have had access between the morning of July 12th, and the time when Mr. Cargate set off for Larkingfield railway station. Actually, as you will hear, that time can be very much shortened since the bottle containing the crystals was only out of Mr. Cargate’s own sight for one long and three short periods during the day until he handed it over to his gardener at approximately 5 p.m. that evening, after which time you will learn from the gardener’s evidence that no one could have laid hands on it except the gardener himself, and that he could not have had access to the snuffbox.
“Unless therefore we have to deal with collusion between the gardener and some other person, an improbable, though not impossible proposition, for those who are about to commit murder seldom take anyone else into their confidence, we shall only have to deal with a few minutes round 11.15 in the morning, a further few at 11.30, the whole of the time between 12 noon and 1.45 p.m., and a few minutes around 3.30 p.m. That is primarily, for you will find that there is an important exception to that statement.
“Nevertheless, members of the jury, I want you to bear those times in mind, for each of them is important as giving a particular person an opportunity to obtain the potassium cyanide, and in fairness I must deal with each of them, since it is very likely that my learned friend who appears for the defence will suggest to you that those periods of time provided an opportunity when some other person than the accused might have tampered with the potassium cyanide and the snuff.
“Very possibly, too, he will suggest to you that those other persons had also motives for wishing Henry Cargate to die, motives rather smacking perhaps of altruism but still, some sort of motives. And here let me confess to you,” Mr. Blayton managed to look almost too honest to be true, “that the processes of thought actuating all those concerned, including the accused, almost reflect credit upon them. It would appear that everyone at Scotney End was full of excellent intentions, even if those intentions led them to contemplate murder. For let me also confess that Henry Cargate had not a perfect character. His first name, which at his lordship’s desire, I have not troubled you with greatly, happened to be Launcelot. But it could not have been Galahad. If it had it would not have been in keeping with his character, for though we are not, happily, concerned with matters of sex, it could not be said that his heart was pure.” Mr. Blayton paused sorrowfully and shook his head before going on slowly. “But, gentlemen of the jury, it is not permitted to murder even the most wicked of men.
“These points,” seeing the ghost of a smile hovering around the mouth of the foreman of the jury, he went on rapidly, “will be brought to your notice more fully in the evidence which will be put before you. It will be my duty to show why in the opinion of the Crown, though several people had the opportunity and the desire, only one person actually put these intentions into practice. Moreover, I have to prove that that person is the accused and to build step by step the facts which have been ascertained and which have led us to that conclusion, and by which I shall endeavour to lead you to a similar conclusion.”
Part II
Investigation
It was all very well for Anstruther Blayton to talk as if he, with perhaps a little assistance from his junior, had been wholly responsible for all the work of building up the facts on which the prosecution was based but, while he had every right to claim that he had decided what evidence should be put forward and how it ought to be presented, he might have indicated faintly that some work had been done by the County Police, by Inspector Fenby, and by Scotland Yard.
It had seemed first of all a perfectly simple case to Fenby, and even if the local police were unduly busy at the moment, the reason which the Chief Constable had given for an apparently reluctant decision to call in Scotland Yard, he thought that they ought to have been able to deal with it themselves.
But it was never his habit to jump to conclusions and he expected that there would probably be a little more to it than just finding out who had purchased the potassium cyanide, which would only be a routine matter of searching the poison register of a number of chemists, perhaps only of quite a small number.
For the brief particulars which had been given to him made no bones of Cargate having died as the result of taking poison absorbed through the mucous membrane in taking snuff. There was so much potassium cyanide in the sample which Dr. Gardiner had obtained and handed to the Coroner that
the only wonder was that Cargate himself had not noticed either its smell or its appearance; but the Chief Constable had heard that it had been taken by an angry man thoughtlessly, and he pronounced that this was the reason why it had not been detected. The analysis was as yet not made, but it would not be surprising if it emerged that about a third of the snuff had been removed and potassium cyanide substituted. Moreover the analyst was inclined to think, judging only from a preliminary investigation which would need confirming, that the crystals had been ground up so as to blend more readily with the brown powder. Also, of course, they could be more readily absorbed if they were in that form.
All this was quite straightforward, but when the Chief Constable went on to say that the purchase of the poison had been traced, Fenby felt at once that he was going to be told something which would show that the case was not quite so simple after all. And sure enough, his intuition turned out to be correct, for the poison had been bought quite openly in Great Barwick and for a quite legitimate purpose by the man whose death it had caused.
“So that,” the Chief Constable went on, “one of two things has happened. Either he has deliberately committed suicide, which there is no reason to suspect. Or he inadvertently put temptation in someone’s way. In other words it is not a premeditated crime. I don’t think, by the way, that it can possibly be an accident. Not if those crystals are ground up.”
Fenby could only agree, even if rather sorrowfully. Unpremeditated crimes were, in his experience, either so obvious that a child could solve them or else chance had put such an opportunity in the way of the murderer that detection became the very devil because there was nothing from which to work.
It looked horribly as if this crime was going to fall into that category, in which case the Chief Constable had a better reason than had at first been apparent when he switched the responsibility over to Scotland Yard. Fenby felt already a strong dislike for rich men who inconsiderately purchased poison by which they themselves met their own end. It could only be called downright careless. Then he brightened up. If those crystals had been ground, there ought to be something to be found out about how that was done. Moreover, that was not quite unpremeditated.
However, it was no time for meditative reflections. It was a time for action, and the first thing to do was to see Ley and warn him that there would be delays before he could arrange for the funeral, let alone prove the will of his client. There might, too, be something to be deduced from the contents of that will.
The “senior partner of Messrs. Anderson and Ley” had somehow coined up in Fenby’s mind the vision of an elderly, solemn, perhaps rather pedantic man, full of precedents and dignity, and quite unlikely to be willing to step from the paths of correctitude sufficiently to be really helpful. Consequently Fenby was slightly taken aback when he found himself shown in to a man of rather under middle age, very sharp and alert, extremely talkative, and quick to see every point that was coming almost before it was made.
“Scotland Yard in connection with my very recently deceased client? Quick work, Inspector.” Ley had greeted him cheerfully. “We only got a telephone call through from Cargate’s secretary this morning—while I was out to lunch, in fact. How did he die? When I rang up Miss Knox Forster this afternoon and arranged to go down to-morrow, I understood her to say that it was heart failure.”
“It may have been, sir, and it may not. It’s because it may not that I’m here.”
“I see.” Ley whistled. “I suppose you aren’t going to tell me anything more but you want to know a good deal from me?”
“Exactly.” Fenby saw no use in wasting words in modifying what was precisely his attitude. It was a perfectly reasonable wish on his part and he saw that Ley quite understood it. It was one of the reasons for Fenby’s success that he summed up people quickly and knew who needed urging and who could be allowed to go on in his own way.
“I suppose,” Ley went on, “that you’ve found out that I’m the sole executor?”
“Yes.”
“Now I wonder how? My clerk told Miss Knox Forster this morning, and I suppose you’ve been in touch with her.”
“Not directly. She told the doctor and he told us. That’s putting it briefly. But actually Miss Knox Forster and everyone else at Scotney End Hall is unaware, I am given to understand, that Cargate did not die naturally. They know there may have to be a Coroner’s inquest, but they do not know that we are interested, and on the whole I think it would be better if they did not—at any rate just at present. Assuming that he was murdered, and assuming that it was done by someone in or around the house, then that somebody must be interviewed and he or she had better be in ignorance of who is conducting the interview. Even Miss Knox Forster had better not be told or she may unconsciously put him or her on her guard. Whereas, if she knows nothing—”
“I see. Then you want me as executor to say nothing and more or less do nothing?”
“That’s about what it comes to. There will have to be a post-mortem and an inquest, and if you wouldn’t mind just falling into line with anything we suggest?”
“Certainly. I won’t try to arrange a cremation. And nobody else is interested.”
“Thank you. But, nobody? Aren’t there any relations?”
“Who might have murdered him for his money? None at all.”
“Not even anyone who might have hoped to have been left something?”
“Quantities of acquaintances and other hopeful people. A rich man like Cargate, even when as unattractive as he was, is bound to collect hangers-on of the worst sort when he has a weak heart and no relations. His doctor, for instance, always made a tremendous fuss of him and I’m sure is full of hope of receiving some compensation for losing so valuable an annuity. But he won’t get a penny and I must say that I should like to see his face when he hears it—oily, plausible scoundrel.” Ley grinned cheerfully. “Competent, though. Wouldn’t kill him by accident. In fact I should say had kept him alive for a great many years longer that was strictly necessary—or desirable.”
Seeing that the solicitor was getting away from the point, Fenby thought that he had better bring him back to it. Besides he had as yet no knowledge of Cargate’s character and so he was almost shocked to hear him spoken of in this way.
“But somebody must be his heir. If there is a will, he can’t be intestate.”
“What makes you think that?” Ley became mildly sarcastic at Fenby’s expense. “He’s got as near to it as he can. The will appoints me as executor, it gives power to us to make our usual professional charges. We had, by the way, some difficulty in persuading him not to insist on the word ‘overcharges’. It might have led to difficulties, so we have put ‘at the excessive scale which we have been in the habit of charging him’, or some such words which, by the way, are dubious law. The will is full of insults of that kind.”
“Which you haven’t resented so far as you are concerned?”
“Not in the least. Anybody can insult me as much as he chooses at a sufficiently high rate. Besides I frankly told Cargate that I charged him as much as possible, or a trifle more, but that I was well worth it. It was the only way to get his confidence. I even ended up one small account of a number of petty items which mounted up to just over sixty pounds by writing the words ‘Say eighty-four guineas’ at the end. And he paid. It was the only joke I ever knew him appreciate. But to get back, Inspector, to where I was when you induced me to go off at this tangent. He insisted on including reasons why he does not propose to grant legacies to me or anybody else—somewhat vitriolic reasons—and then he has gone on to be rude to a few charities who had approached him for subscriptions. I rather resented that but I couldn’t get him to leave it out, so there it is. It’s rather stupid, but I couldn’t help it.”
“And what finally has he done with it?”
“Left it all to the nation.”
“Of all the dull and undeserving—”<
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“Precisely. He held the economic view that money paid to the nation in any form, taxes or gifts, was always wasted and did nobody any good, and he wanted to do nobody any good. At one time he thought of putting up shower baths in the North Pole or Turkish ones in the Sahara, but then he dropped that as being childish. He very nearly left it to be divided equally between Germany, Italy, Japan, the Irish Free State and the Republic of San Marino. But that would have been a nuisance, so I stopped it.”
“I see.” Fenby spoke very slowly. “Was he by any chance quite sane?”
“Not much madder than most other people. You won’t, by the way, be able to contest the will on the ground that leaving everything of which you die possessed to the nation is an obvious sign of lunacy. It’ll be called patriotism, which is only nearly the same thing and quite different in law.”
“I wasn’t thinking of contesting it,” Fenby answered a little crossly.
“No, I don’t expect you were, but if you hated everyone in the world, what would you do? It’s difficult to think of a good joke or of anyone who will be embarrassed by being left a million or so. If they were likely to be, they need not take it, for one thing.”
But Fenby refused to follow the solicitor into such realms of fancy. Besides, he had by now achieved everything for which he came and he had no desire to plunge himself into a morass of economic theory and consider whether Cargate’s money would be benefiting everybody, as would certainly be represented by the Press, or nobody, as was apparently Cargate’s own opinion.
“In a sense, I suppose,” thought Fenby, “it is a diminishment of purchasing power, therefore deflation, and therefore a bad thing. I give it up. Economics were always too much for me, but thank goodness I don’t have to try to understand them. I only know that the nation has got to pay for the expenses of the car that is going to take me down to Great Barwick to-night and then, less obtrusively, to see Dr. Gardiner, and that Cargate’s cash can do it nicely. I wish he’d left it towards increasing the salaries of police officers—with a personal grant to anyone who discovered how he was murdered. But people never seem to think of such delicate attentions before they go off and get themselves killed. So there it is.”