‘What did the deceased have for lunch?’ he went on.
‘Just what the rest of us had, sir: clear soup, cold tongue and salad, cheese and biscuits, an apple and coffee.’
‘And what did he drink?’
‘Whisky and soda; a very little whisky.’
‘Was that everything he had?’
‘He took a pill after the meal, same as always. Except for that, he had nothing.’
‘What sort of pill?’
‘Salter’s Anti-indigestion Pills.’
‘Well, that wouldn’t kill him. You say he took one after every meal?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘For how long had he been doing so?’
‘Oh, several weeks.’
‘You’ve just said you sat beside him at lunch. Are you sure he didn’t take anything from his pocket and put it into his mouth or his food?’
‘I didn’t see him do so, sir.’
‘Ah,’ said the coroner, ‘that’s just what I want to get at. Would you have seen him if he had?’
‘I think so, sir.’
‘But you can’t be sure?’
Weatherup hesitated. ‘I couldn’t be absolutely positive, sir, but I think I should have seen it, and I certainly didn’t.’
‘Could anyone else have slipped anything into his food unnoticed by you?’
‘I should say certainly not, sir.’
Dr Emerson leant forward. ‘Tell me, did you at any time during the meal look at the other side of the cabin or out of the opposite window?’
Again Weatherup hesitated. ‘Well, yes, I did. I was admiring the effect of the sun on the cloud.’
‘Only once?’
‘I may have looked more than once.’
‘Then why shouldn’t the deceased have taken something out of his pocket while you were looking away?’
Weatherup uneasily admitted it would have been possible.
The coroner was evidently dissatisfied. He paused and then had another shot.
‘Now can you explain how the deceased could have got the poison?’
This was, however, unproductive. Weatherup disposed of it with a curt ‘No, sir.’
Dr Emerson paused again and glanced over his notes. The hall was very silent. All were sitting motionless as if hypnotized. Then the coroner raised his head.
‘Any gentleman wish to ask the witness any question?’ He looked at the jury, but no one moved. ‘You, Inspector?’ Appleby shook his head. ‘Then that’ll do, thank you, Mr Weatherup. James Bradley!’
An energetic looking young man came forward and took the oath.
‘You are an attendant in the service of Imperial Airways and were on duty in the liner which left Croydon for France at 12.30 on the 7th of September?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you remember the last and a former witness as well as the deceased and a little girl having lunch?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did you collect the soiled plates, glasses, and so on from the tables?’
‘Yes, sir. They were all packed together and taken out of the plane to be washed.’
‘Then no chemical analysis was made of the food or drink remaining?’
‘No, sir, the washing was in progress before I heard anything of the possibility of poison.’
‘Did you search the plane afterwards?’
‘Yes, sir, I searched it with the French police officer.’
‘What were you looking for?’
‘Some kind of box or bottle in which the poison might have been brought, I think, the officer specially wanted.’
‘But you didn’t find it?’
‘No, sir, we found nothing.’
Dr Emerson looked across to the jury. ‘You will remember, members of the jury, that the French police officer’s report, which you heard read, stated that he had searched the body also and had found no such box or bottle on it either. Any questions?… Thank you, Mr Bradley. Oh, by the way, why did your plane come down at Beauvais instead of Le Bourget?’
‘Fog at Le Bourget, sir.’
Dr Gregory was the next witness. He stated that he knew the deceased well, having attended him for many years. He had specially examined him on the night of the 6th of September and had come to the conclusion that he was strong enough to undertake the journey to Paris. Yes, the deceased was suffering from indigestion. He was treating him for it, but not with the pills which had been mentioned. Yes, indigestion frequently produced depression, and he thought it had done so in this instance. He could not say that the deceased’s depression was sufficient to have led to suicide, but, of course, depression tends in that direction. There was no doubt that the deceased’s health was failing, though he agreed with the previous witnesses that there had been no sudden change for the worse.
Inspector Appleby then gave evidence. He had taken charge of the remains of the deceased in France and had conveyed them to Cold Pickerby. He had found in the pockets a bottle of pills, which he had personally handed to the analyst. After consultation with the doctor and the analyst he had removed certain bottles from the deceased’s dark-room and also conveyed these to the analyst.
Gavin Grant, of Messrs Grant & Colby, analysts, was then called. He had received from Dr Ingram the stomach and other portions of a human body. He had analysed their contents and had found potassium cyanide present. He became technical as to the quantity, but explained that there would have been sufficient to have killed an ordinary man in normal health, but not very much more. He was quite satisfied that there was enough to have killed the deceased.
He had received from Inspector Appleby a bottle of pills. He had analysed all of these and had found no trace of poison in any of them.
He had been questioned by the inspector as to how the poison might have been obtained, and when he heard that the deceased was an amateur photographer he asked the inspector to look if there were certain bottles in his dark-room. The inspector brought him certain bottles, saying he had found them in the dark-room. He, witness, had analysed the contents of these bottles, and in one of them he had found potassium cyanide. Yes, it was used in photography for intensifying weak negatives. He was satisfied that had the deceased taken a certain quantity of the contents of this bottle, the effect would have been what actually obtained.
‘Was that potassium of which you speak in solid or liquid form?’ the coroner went on.
‘In liquid form.’
‘Then it could not have been conveyed in the plane otherwise than in a bottle?’
‘That is so, if you are referring to what was shown to me.’
‘I was referring to what was shown to you because I didn’t understand there was any other. Am I now to understand that more poison was found than that one bottle?’
‘No, sir, not so far as I am aware. What I mean is this: potassium cyanide is sold in the solid, and unless the deceased made a special arrangement with his chemist to dissolve it for him, he would have received it in the solid and dissolved it himself.’
The coroner nodded. ‘I follow. You mean that he may not have dissolved all the solid he presumably obtained?’
‘I did not say so, sir. I was of opinion that you should know of the possibility, that’s all.’
‘Quite. That is very interesting. Then your suggestion is that he may have had some solid cyanide which he could have carried in a scrap of paper in his pocket?’
Mr Grant disclaimed all intention of making any suggestion whatever. He had simply thought that the point should be brought to the coroner’s notice. It was not for him to make deductions. Dr Emerson agreed dryly and then complimented him on the correctness of his attitude.
The last witness was Mr Crosby. He corroborated Peter’s statement about the business talk which had taken place after dinner on the last evening of the deceased’s life. As solicitor to the deceased, he had been called in to advise. Nothing had been settled, but it was his impression also that the deceased intended to make a grant of some kind to Mr Morley.
> Yes, he had drawn up the deceased’s will. The provisions were as followed, and he enumerated them. No, there had been no secret about these provisions. Everybody concerned, with the possible exception of the servants, knew quite well what he or she had to expect.
This completed the evidence, and for a moment there was silence in the court while the coroner looked over his notes. Charles had found the proceedings a terrible ordeal, even though he had no doubt as to the verdict. He was rejoiced beyond measure at that suggestion of the poison having come from the photographic bottle. This would meet the only real difficulty to the suicide theory – where Andrew could have got the poison. Strange that he had never thought of that himself. He remembered now having seen in ‘Taylor’ that potassium cyanide was used in photography.
Once again Charles deplored the unlucky chance which had made the old man take the poison while on the journey. If the tragedy had occurred within reach of the dark-room the photographic explanation would have been more convincing, and the absence of a receptacle in which the poison could have been carried would have mattered less.
But the coroner had arranged his notes and was beginning to speak. He set off with a little homily about the duties of the jurors and the need for a verdict founded on the evidence and on that alone, and delivered without fear or favour of any man. Then he became more concrete.
They had first, he declared, to determine whose were the remains they had seen, and what was the cause of his death. That was their primary duty. But they had a secondary one also. If they considered blame attached to anyone, whether to the deceased himself or to some other person, they were to say so. With that their duties ended.
Now, in the present case he thought they would have no difficulty in finding that the deceased was Andrew Crowther of The Moat and that he had died as the result of taking potassium cyanide. That seemed clear from the evidence. But the question of possible blame was not so clear. Unless this was an accident, blame attached, and they had first to consider whether or not it was an accident. He did not wish to direct them, but he thought they would have little difficulty in deciding that no case for an accident had been put forward.
If they took this view, then someone was to blame. Who was that person? Was this a case of suicide, in which the blame must lie on the deceased himself, or was it murder?
The case for suicide, as he saw it, was that the deceased was old and in feeble health and had been suffering from depression due to indigestion. In this connexion it must be remembered that none of the witnesses who had testified to the deceased’s depression had believed that that depression was severe enough to cause suicide. When weighing this evidence the jury would consider how far these witnesses were qualified to form such an opinion. Then they must not rule out the possibility that the deceased might have been in an abnormal condition after lunch. He was subject to indigestion and it was not impossible that something in the lunch might have disagreed with him, producing more acute indigestion, and thereby greatly increasing his misery and depression. Admittedly there was no evidence for this, but the jury were entitled to consider such possibilities in the light of their own common sense.
They had heard what he, the coroner, might call the photographic evidence. The deceased was an amateur photographer, and as such had potassium cyanide in his dark-room. Unless some special arrangement had been made with his chemist, of which there was no evidence, he would have purchased that potassium cyanide in the solid. It was required in liquid form, and some of it at all events had been dissolved. It would be for the jury to consider whether it had all been dissolved, or whether a certain portion might not have been retained in the solid. In the latter case they might consider whether this solid portion might not have been carried – perhaps in a scrap of paper – in the deceased’s pocket. In this connexion he would remind the jury of the evidence of the attendant, Weatherup, who admitted that, unobserved by him, the deceased might have taken something from his pocket and eaten it. Such, in the coroner’s view, was the case for suicide.
On the other hand, a case could also be made for murder. A large number of persons had an interest in the deceased’s death: the jury would remember the evidence Mr Crosby gave about the will. It was for the jury to consider whether the poison could have been introduced into some article consumed during the lunch. If they thought so, they might, if they considered there was sufficient evidence, indicate the person whom they suspected of having done this.
They would see, Dr Emerson concluded, that there was some difficulty in accepting any of the theories put forward, but they must weigh the evidence as they would weigh evidence in the ordinary affairs of their daily lives. If they believed that this death was due to accident, suicide, or murder, they would say so, but if they did not think there was sufficient evidence to enable them to reach a conclusion on this point, they would find that while the deceased died from potassium cyanide poisoning, there was no evidence to say how the poison was administered.
He would now ask them to retire and consider their verdict, and if there was any help he could give them in reaching a decision, they had only to ask for it.
They were not long away. In less than ten minutes they returned. Yes, they were agreed on their verdict. They found that Andrew Crowther had committed suicide while temporarily insane.
Chapter XIII
Charles Has a Caller
Though Charles had expected no other verdict, his relief when the inquest had become an accomplished fact was overwhelming. Now at last the death of Andrew was definitely a matter of history. The verdict had, as it were, pushed it authoritatively into the background, as no longer of interest or importance. Never again would he, Charles, hear of it.
At the same time there were one or two things to be done before he could banish the whole tragic episode from his mind. There were those pictures, for example. Una might now at any time come to his house, and on the walls of his house were fourteen blank spaces. She would miss the pictures and would ask questions. Those questions must not be asked.
It happened that on the third evening after the inquest a dinner of the old boys of Charles’s school was being held in Town. Charles had occasionally attended these functions, though this time he had refused. Now he rang up the secretary and said that his refusal had been due to the fact that he had believed that on the date in question he would have been cruising in the Mediterranean. Owing to the death of his uncle he had had to return unexpectedly, and he would like to change his mind and be present at the dinner.
On the morning of the day Charles once again drove up to Town. Once again also he drove fast, with the result that he arrived in the comparatively early afternoon. By four-thirty he was in the office of Messrs Spiller & Morgan, of Bedford Street, off the Strand. He had obtained their name from a directory and had telephoned from Cold Pickerby that he was going up. Mr Spiller was expecting him and received him immediately.
‘You desire to be accommodated with a loan,’ Mr Spiller began after impressive courtesies. ‘I hope we shall be able to meet your wishes. How much did you think of, and for how long?’
‘I want to know first whether we can do business,’ Charles inquired. ‘Unfortunately, I am unable to offer you proof of the genuine nature of my security. The fact is, I have just been left an estimated sum of sixty-two thousand pounds, free of death duties. The will has been read, but probate has not been granted.’
Mr Spiller bowed. ‘So, sir, I understand. I may say,’ he went on with a discreet smile, as Charles looked surprised, ‘that in my business I have to have ways of assessing such matters, and on receipt of your telephone message I got in touch with my agent in your district. He gave me such information as he could obtain. It was, of course, not fully satisfactory, but I am prepared to act to a limited extent on the strength of it.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Charles returned. ‘What I want, then, is a loan until probate is granted, or rather, until I actually receive the inheritance. You probab
ly know better than I how long that would take. I imagine three months, but I’m not sure. I may say that there are no legal complications in the matter.’
‘Quite so, Mr Swinburn. Three or four months should meet the case. And the amount?’
‘Five thousand.’
Mr Spiller bowed again. ‘That should be easily managed,’ he repeated. ‘When did you want the accommodation?’
‘Now,’ Charles returned. ‘At least, if possible tomorrow morning. Would that give you time to make any further inquiries you may desire?’
Mr Spiller made a gesture as if sweeping the idea of inquiries from the discussion. ‘No further inquiries are needed for a loan to Mr Charles Swinburn,’ he said grandly, ‘but, sir,’ he smiled deprecatingly, ‘we require to be assured that you are Mr Swinburn. You will excuse the obvious precaution?’
‘Of course,’ Charles agreed. ‘I’m glad it’s only that. Let’s see. I would suggest the manager of the London branch of my bank, whom I know fairly well, but the bank is closed now. What about the manager of my hotel, or the officials at my club?’
‘Either would be satisfactory. Perhaps, however, I might make a suggestion. You want the money tomorrow morning?’
‘I should like it, but it’s not essential.’
‘There will be no difficulty whatever. Suppose tomorrow we go along to your bank, you and I, see your manager, obtain the formal identification, and I then and there write you the cheque and you can cash it in the bank?’
Charles hesitated. ‘I don’t like that idea, Mr Spiller,’ he said presently. ‘You may put it down to false pride if you like, but I’m not particularly anxious to blaze it abroad that I’m negotiating a loan. No, come and see my bank manager by all means, but let it be in connexion with an insurance or something of that kind. Then let us return here and you give me the money in cash. It doesn’t seem very polite, but I’d rather not have my dealings with your firm passing through my own bank.’
Mr Spiller appreciated the point and would be delighted to oblige. Many of his clients felt as Mr Swinburn did, and there was nothing in it to call for apology. What time would be convenient in the morning?
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