CHAPTER XXVIII
It was somewhere in the neighbourhood of half-past three when theopportunity to interview those three persons was finally vouchsafedhim; and it may be recorded at once that the meeting did someviolence to his emotions. In short, he found Mr. James Drake (farfrom being the frank-faced, impulsive, lovable young pepper-pot whichhis actions and words would seem to stand sponsor for) a ratherretiring young man of the "pale and studious" order, absolutelylacking in personal magnetism, and about the last person in the worldone would expect to do the "all for love" business of the averagehero in the manner he had done. On the other hand, he found theEarl of Fallowfield an exceedingly frank, pleasant-mannered, ratherboyish-looking gentleman, whose many attractions rendered it easyto understand why the late Mr. Jefferson P. Drake had conceivedsuch a warm affection for him, and was at such pains to have himever by his side. It seemed, indeed, difficult to believe that hecould possibly be the father of Lady Marjorie Wynde, for his mannerand appearance were so youthful as to make him appear to be nothingcloser than an elder brother. The doctor--that eminent Harley Streetlight, Mr. John Strangeways Hague--he found to be full of HarleyStreet manners and Harley Street ideas, eminently polite, eminentlycold, and about as pleased to meet a detective police officer as hewould be to find an organ-grinder sitting on his doorstep.
"Have you come to any conclusions as to the means of death, Doctor?"asked Cleek after he had been shown into the Stone Drum, where thebody of the dead man still lay and where the local coroner andthe local J. P. were conducting a sort of preliminary examinationprior to the regulation inquest, which must, of course, follow. "Thegeneral appearance would suggest asphyxia, if asphyxia were possible."
"Which it is not," volunteered Doctor Hague, with the geniality ofa snowball. "You have probably observed that the many slits in thewall permit of free ventilation; and asphyxia with free ventilationis an impossibility."
"Quite so," agreed Cleek placidly. "But if by any chance thoseslits could have been closed from the outside--I observe that atsome period and for some purpose Mr. Drake has made use of a charcoalfurnace"--indicating it by a wave of the hand--"and apparently withno other vent to carry off the fumes than that supplied by theslits. Now if they were closed and the charcoal left burning, theresult would be an atmosphere charged with carbon monoxide gas,and a little more than one per cent. of that in the air of a roomdeprived of ventilation would, in a short time, prove fatal to anyperson breathing that air."
The doctor twitched round an inquiring eye, and looked him over fromhead to foot.
"Yes," he said, remembering that, after all, there were BoardSchools, and even the humblest might sometimes learn, parrot-like,to repeat the "things that are in books." "But we happen to knowthat the slits were not closed and that neither carbon oxide norcarbon monoxide was the cause of death."
"You have taken samples of the blood, of course, to establish thatfact beyond question, as one could so readily do?" ventured Cleeksuavely. "The test for carbon monoxide is so simple and so verycertain that error is impossible. It combines so tensely, if onemay put it that way, with the blood, that the colouring of the redcorpuscles is utterly overcome and destroyed."
"My good sir, those are elementary facts of which I do not stand inneed of a reminder."
"Quite so, quite so. But in my profession, Doctor, one stands inconstant need of 'reminders.' A speck, a spot, a pin-prick--eachand all are significant, and----But is this not a slight abrasionon the temple here?" bending over and, with his glass, examining aminute reddish speck upon the dead man's face. "Hum-m-m! I see, Isee! Have you investigated this thing, Doctor? It is interesting."
"I fail to see the point of interest, then," replied Doctor Hague,bending over and examining the spot. "The skin is scarcely more thanabraded--evidently by the finger nail scratching off the head of someinfinitesimal pustule."
"Possibly," agreed Cleek, "but on the other hand, it may be somethingof a totally different character--for one thing, the possible pointat which contact was established between the man's blood andsomething of a poisonous character. An injection of cyanide ofpotassium, for instance, would cause death, and account in ameasure for this suggestion of asphyxia conveyed by the expression ofthe features."
"True, my good sir; but have the goodness to ask yourself whocould get into the place to administer such hypodermic? And, ifself-administered, what can have become of the syringe? If thrownfrom one of the bowman's slits, it could only have fallen upon theroof of the wing, and I assure you that was searched most thoroughlylong before your arrival. I don't think you will go so far as tosuggest that it was shot in, attached to some steel missile capableof making a wound; for no such missile is, as you see, embedded inthe flesh nor was one lying anywhere about the floor. The cyanide ofpotassium theory is ingenious, but I'm afraid it won't hold water."
"Hold water!" The phrase brought Cleek's thoughts harking back towhat he had been told regarding the little puddle of water lyingon the floor, and of a sudden his eyes narrowed, and the curiousone-sided smile travelled up his cheek.
"No, I suppose not," he said, replying to the doctor's remark."Besides, your test tubes would have settled that when it settled thecarbon monoxide question. Had cyanide been present, the specimensof blood would have been clotted and blue."
Of a sudden it seemed to dawn upon the doctor that this didn't smackquite so much of Board School intelligence as he had fancied, and,facing round, he looked at Cleek with a new-born interest.
"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I don't think I caught your name,Mr.--er--er----"
"Cleek, Doctor; Hamilton Cleek, at your service."
"Good Lord! That is, I--er--er--my dear sir, my dear Mr. Cleek, ifthere is any intelligence I can possibly supply, pray command me."
"With pleasure, Doctor, and thank you very much indeed for the kindoffer. I have been told that there was a little puddle of water onthe floor at the time the murder was discovered, also that you took asample of it for analysis. As I don't see any sign of that puddlenow, would you mind telling me what that analysis established. Ihave heard, I may tell you, that you found the water to contain nopoisonous substance; but I should be obliged if you can tell me ifit was water drawn from a well or such as might have been takenfrom a river or pond."
"As a matter of fact, my dear Mr. Cleek, I don't think it came fromany of the three."
"Hum-m-m! A manufactured mineral water, then?"
"No, not that, either. If it had been raining and there was anyhole or leak in this roof, I should have said it was rainwater thathad dripped in and formed a little puddle on the floor. If it hadbeen winter, I should have said it was the result of melted snow.As a matter of fact, I incline more to the latter theory than to anyother, although it is absurd, of course, to think of snow beingobtainable anywhere in England in the month of July."
"Quite so, quite so--unless--it doesn't matter. That's all, thankyou, Doctor, and very many thanks."
"A word, please, Mr. Cleek," interposed the doctor as he turned tomove away and leave him. "I am afraid I was not very communicativenor very cordial when you asked me if I had any idea of the meansemployed to bring about the unfortunate man's death; may I hopethat you will be better mannered than I, Mr. Cleek, if I ask you ifyou have? Thanks, very much. Then, have you?"
"Yes," said Cleek. "And so, too, will you, if you will make a secondblood test, with the specimens you have, at a period of aboutforty-eight hours after the time of decease. It will take quitethat before the presence of the thing manifests itself under theinfluence of any known process or responds to any known test. Andeven then it will only be detected by a faintly alcoholic odourand excessively bitter taste. The man has been murdered--done todeath by that devil's drug woorali, if I am not mistaken. But whoadministered it and _how_ it was administered are things I can'ttell you yet."
"Woorali! Woorali! That is the basis of the drug curarin, producedby Roulin and Boussingault in 1828 from a combination of the alliedpoisons known to the savages of S
outh America and of the tropics bythe names of corroval and vao, is it not?"
"Yes. And a fiend's thing it is, too. A mere scratch from anythingsteeped in it is enough to kill an ox almost immediately. Thefavourite 'native' manner of using the hellish thing is by means ofa thorn and a blowpipe. But no such method has been employed inthis case. No thorn nor, indeed, any other projectile has enteredthe flesh, nor is there one lying anywhere about the floor. Besure I looked, Doctor, the instant I suspected that woorali hadbeen used. Pardon me, but that must be all for the present. Ihave other fish to fry."
Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories Page 29
