“How was it administered?”
“We don’t know,” admitted Colonel Johnson. “That’s going to be the weak part of the case.
According to medical evidence, it could only have been swallowed a few minutes previous to death.”
“They were drinking port, I understand?”
“Exactly. Seems as though the stuff was in the port; but it wasn’t.
We analysed his glass. That glass had contained port, and nothing but port.
The other wine glasses had been cleared, of course, but they were all on a tray in the pantry, unwashed, and not one of them contained anything it shouldn’t.
As for what he ate, it was the same as everybody else had. Soup, grilled sole, pheasant and chipped potatoes, chocolate souffle, soft roes on toast.
His cook’s been with him fifteen years.
No, there doesn’t seem to be any way he could have been given the stuff, and yet there it is in the stomach.
It’s a nasty problem.”
Sir Charles wheeled round on Mr. Satterthwaite.
“The same thing,” he said excitedly. “Exactly the same as before.” He turned apologetically to the chief constable. “I must explain.
A death occurred at my house in Cornwall - ”
Colonel Johnson looked interested.
“I think I’ve heard about that. From a young lady - Miss Lytton Gore.”
“Yes, she was there.
She told you about it?”
“She did. She was very set on her theory.
But, you know, Sir Charles, I can’t believe there’s anything in that theory.
It doesn’t explain the flight of the butler.
Your man didn’t disappear, by any chance?”
“Haven’t got a man - only a parlourmaid.”
“She couldn’t have been a man in disguise?”
Thinking of the smart and obviously feminine Temple, Sir Charles smiled.
Colonel Johnson also smiled apologetically.
“Just an idea,” he said. “No, I can’t say I put much reliance in Miss Lytton Gore’s theory.
I understand the death in question was an elderly clergyman.
Who would want to put an old clergyman out of the way?”
“That’s just the puzzling part of it,” said Sir Charles.
“I think you’ll find it’s just coincidence.
Depend on it, the butler’s our man.
Very likely he’s a regular criminal.
Unluckily we can’t find any of his finger-prints.
We had a finger-print expert go over his bedroom and the butler’s pantry, but he had no luck.”
“If it was the butler, what motive can you suggest?”
“That, of course, is one of our difficulties,” admitted Colonel Johnson. “The man might have been there with intent to steal, and Sir Bartholomew might have caught him out.”
Both Sir Charles and Mr. Satterthwaite remained courteously silent.
Colonel Johnson himself seemed to feel that the suggestion lacked plausibility.
“The fact of the matter is, one can only theorise.
Once we’ve got John Ellis under lock and key and have found out who he is, and whether he’s ever been through our hands before - well, the motive may be as clear as day.”
“You’ve been through Sir Bartholomew’s papers, I suppose?”
“Naturally, Sir Charles.
We’ve given that side of the case every attention.
I must introduce you to Superintendent Crossfield, who has charge of the case.
A most reliable man.
I pointed out to him, and he was quick to agree with me, that Sir Bartholomew’s profession might have had something to do with the crime.
A doctor knows many professional secrets.
Sir Bartholomew’s papers were all neatly filed and docketed - his secretary, Miss Lyndon, went through them with Crossfield.”
“And there was nothing?”