by John Rhode
Next came Miss Rissington. She had been staying at Firlands, and her opportunity for tampering with the olives had been even better than her cousin’s. She appeared to be the principal beneficiary under her uncle’s will. It was she who had originally suggested olives to him.
Micah Pershore, that shadowy half-brother, might be ruled out, at least for the present.
Then Mr Pershore’s various friends and acquaintances. The Chantleys, to begin with. Hanslet felt pretty certain that Mrs Markle knew more about the relations between them and Mr Pershore than she had cared to say. But, since it appeared that they had neither been to the house for some considerable time, their opportunity was obscure. Even more obscure was any motive on their part for an attempt to murder Mr Pershore.
Odin Hardisen, the ‘damned scoundrel’ who lived at Wells. He had at one time been a friend of Mr Pershore’s, but, quite obviously, they had quarrelled. But quarrels between old friends did not usually lead to attempted murder. Besides, in this case, opportunity appeared to be entirely lacking.
The Sulgraves. Mrs Sulgrave had been at Firlands as recently as the previous Friday. She might therefore have had an opportunity of tampering with the olives. George Sulgrave was connected with the motor business. This might account for Mr Pershore’s visit to the Motor Show. He might have gone there on Sulgrave’s suggestion, for instance. But here, again, any possible motive seemed entirely lacking.
The superintendent, having completed his notes, read them through very carefully. As he folded them up and put them in his pocket, he shook his head. ‘It looks to me as though that girl, Miss Rissington, had had a hand in this,’ he muttered. ‘I shall have to get on her tracks, I’m afraid. But, before I do that, I’ll see what evidence crops up at the inquest.’
CHAPTER IV
Hanslet had not been long in his office next morning when he received a telephone call. He picked up the instrument. ‘Who is it? Mr Merefield? Yes, I know him. Put him through.’
The connection was established, and he heard the well-known voice of Harold Merefield, Dr Priestley’s secretary. ‘Hallo, is that you, Mr Hanslet? Good-morning. I say, do you know anything about an inquest on a chap named Nahum Pershore, who died at the Motor Show yesterday?’
‘As it happens, I know quite a lot about it,’ Hanslet replied. ‘Why?’
‘I’ll tell you. Oldland was here last night. It seems that he picked the fellow up, or something. He was telling Dr Priestley all about it. There doesn’t seem to me to be anything very special in his yarn, but you know what my old man is. He jumped at it at once. And he wants to know when and where the inquest is to be held, and whether you can get him a seat at it.’
‘You can tell him that I’ll keep a seat for him, all right. Two-thirty this afternoon, at the Kensington Coroner’s Court. Is that all?’
‘That’s all. Thanks very much. I’ll tell him. So long.’
Merefield rang off, and the superintendent leant back in his chair with a puzzled frown. What instinct had led Dr Priestley to evince any interest in the death of Mr Pershore? On the surface, there was nothing mysterious about it. An elderly man had collapsed in a crowd, that was all. Dr Priestley could know nothing about the curious incident of the olives. Yet that belligerent scientist, with his irritating passion for logical deduction, and his secret interest in criminology, seemed already to have detected an intriguing crime behind his friend Oldland’s necessarily bald account of the episode.
Well, so much the better. Hanslet had already thought of paying a visit to the house in Westbourne Terrace and putting the facts before the professor. He had a way of sorting out facts which was very helpful. They would meet at the inquest, and Hanslet would ascertain the professor’s impression later. Meanwhile he had plenty to do.
In the first place there was the analyst’s report, which had just come in. ‘Report on specimens submitted for analysis by Superintendent Hanslet, C.I.D. These consist of two bottles, marked “A” and “B” respectively, and bearing the label “Crescent and Whitewater’s Stuffed Olives.” Both bottles do in fact contain such olives, preserved in liquid. The bottle marked “A” contains twenty-four, the bottle marked “B” fifteen.
‘The analysis was for the purpose of ascertaining whether arsenic was present in the olives, and if so, in what quantity. The method adopted was to test first the liquid contained in the bottles, then each individual olive, then the pinkish mixture used as stuffing.
‘The first test was made upon the contents of bottle “A.” In this case, the results were entirely negative. No perceptible trace of arsenic was found in the liquor, nor in any of the olives or their stuffing.
‘The second test was made upon the contents of the bottle marked “B.” On testing the liquor, it was found to contain arsenious oxide in solution. The flesh of each olive was then tested separately, and yielded positive results, though the amount of arsenious oxide present was inconsiderable. On testing the stuffings, however, each of these was found to be contaminated with a small but varying quantity of arsenious oxide. In some cases, the crystalline particles of the salt were visible with a low-powered microscope. The amount of the salt present in each stuffing varied, but the average was half a grain. ‘This distribution of arsenious oxide suggests that the contamination had been deliberately carried out after the preparation and bottling of the olives. The method employed was probably as follows. The olives were removed from the bottle and treated separately. In each case the stuffing was removed, a quantity of arsenious oxide poured into the cavity, and the stuffing replaced. The presence of arsenious oxide in the flesh of the fruit could be accounted for by the absorption, and in the liquor by solution.
‘It may be of interest to Superintendent Hanslet to know that the smallest recorded fatal dose of arsenic is two grains.
‘The specimens are being retained in this department pending further instructions.’
So the olives had been poisoned, and Jessie’s symptoms were accounted for. If she had eaten four olives, she had taken two grains of arsenic, and might consider herself lucky to be alive. But what about Mr Pershore? If he had eaten five, by the same calculation he had taken two and a half grains. And he was dead. This seemed so logical to Hanslet, that he felt sure the inquest would be a very simple matter. The medical evidence would reveal that the cause of death had been arsenical poisoning.
He made a point of lunching early, and arrived at the Coroner’s Court in plenty of time. Dr Priestley was already waiting, and accepted the superintendent’s offer to find him a seat with a curt word of thanks. Shortly afterwards other witnesses began to arrive. Doctor Oldland, who greeted Hanslet with a nod of recognition and a slight lifting of the eyebrows. The police surgeon who had conducted the post-mortem. And finally Philip Bryant, at the sight of whom Hanslet frowned ominously.
The Coroner reached the court punctually on time, and the proceedings began without delay. He was sitting with a jury of seven, and when these had been sworn, the witnesses were called.
The first was Philip Bryant, who described himself as a solicitor, and gave his address as 500 Lincoln’s Inn Fields. He had seen the body of the deceased, and identified it as that of his uncle, Nahum Pershore. Mr Pershore was fifty-five, and lived at Firlands, Weybridge. He was a retired builder.
In reply to the coroner’s questions, Philip stated that he had last seen his uncle on the previous Sunday evening. He had seemed in very good spirits, but not quite in his usual robust health. Asked what reason he had for saying this, Philip replied that he had noticed at dinner that his uncle did not eat as much as usual. ‘I asked him tactfully after dinner if anything was the matter with him, and he told me that for the last couple of days he had been suffering from loss of appetite, with headaches and slight pains in the stomach.
‘I suggested to him that he had better see his doctor, but he told me that it was nothing. He attributed his symptoms to indigestion, from which he had already suffered some time previously. I knew that he was in the habit of
taking some patent medicine for this, the name of which escapes me. I asked him if he derived any benefit from it, and he told me that he did, and that he would take an extra dose that evening.’
‘Did he appear in any way mentally depressed at his condition?’
‘Not at all. He was as cheerful as I have ever known him, and spoke of going for a Mediterranean cruise in a few weeks’ time.’
Philip stood down and the police surgeon was called. He gave his name as Cecil Button. He had been instructed to perform a post-mortem examination of the body of the deceased, and had done so that morning.
External examination had revealed no bruises or contusion of any kind. But, upon removing the clothing, a strip of linen, which appeared to have been torn from a shirt, was found tied round the right thigh. Upon removing the strip, it was found to be spotted with dried blood, not in any considerable quantity. Examination of the place from which the strip had been removed revealed three punctures, and on probing them, a corresponding number of pellets were found embedded in the flesh. These pellets had been removed. Doctor Button passed a small cardboard box up to the coroner for his inspection.
The Coroner opened the box and looked at its contents. ‘These appear to be shot from a twelve-bore cartridge,’ he remarked. ‘Is it your opinion, Doctor Button, that these injuries contributed to the death of the deceased?’
‘I hardly think that is possible,’ the doctor replied. ‘By the appearance of the very slight wounds, I formed the opinion that they had been sustained at least forty-eight hours before I examined the body, and possibly longer. They showed no signs whatever of being septic, and their position was such as to cause no danger, but only slight inconvenience. I noticed also that the skin in their vicinity was stained with iodine.’
‘Did you form any opinion as to how these wounds had been inflicted?’
‘They appeared to me to have been caused by a shot-gun, fired at considerable range. The pellets were widely scattered, the punctures being rather more than two inches apart. And the penetration of the pellets into the tissues was not more than an inch.’
‘You found no other sign of external injury?’
‘None whatever, though I made an exhaustive search. I then proceeded to an internal examination. In general, the organs of the deceased were in a perfectly healthy condition, and showed the appearances to be expected in a man of his age. The heart, in particular, was perfectly normal. I formed the opinion that the deceased was a man addicted to good living, and that, at times, he ate and drank rather more than was good for him. But this indulgence had not resulted in any organic disease.
‘Upon examining the contents of the stomach, and the stomach and intestines themselves, I found slight but well-marked symptoms of inflammation. The nature of this inflammation suggested to me the presence of a small and not fatal dose of some irritant poison. I have made an approximate test, which indicated the presence of arsenic, probably in minute quantities. I have therefore sent certain portions of the intestines, and the contents of the stomach, to the Home Office for analysis.’
Hanslet glanced at Dr Priestley, to see what effect this sensational evidence would have upon him. But the professor’s face was completely impassive. His eyes were closed, and to all appearances he was fast asleep.
The Coroner, however, was looking puzzled. ‘Until we learn the result of the analysis, it is impossible to conjecture the amount of arsenic present,’ he said. ‘But you speak of minute quantities. Is it your opinion that the deceased died as the result of arsenical poisoning?’
‘Not directly. For one thing, I believe it will be found that the amount of arsenic present was insufficient to cause death. And, for another, I have never heard of arsenical poisoning causing a sudden collapse without certain premonitory symptoms, such as vomiting. Further, with the exception of this slight inflammation of the stomach, all the characteristic symptoms of death from arsenical poison are absent.’
‘Would you expect the swallowing of a small quantity of arsenic to produce the symptoms of loss of appetite, headache, and pain, mentioned by the previous witness?’
‘Those symptoms are typical of chronic arsenical poisoning. I suspect the deceased of having habitually swallowed small quantities of arsenic, extending possibly over a period of several days.
‘Upon continuing my examination, I found a characteristic appearance in the blood vessels and certain of the viscera, which led me to suspect that the deceased might have been exposed to the action of carbon monoxide. I therefore made a spectroscopic examination of the blood, and found that a small proportion of the haemoglobin had been converted into carboxy haemoglobin. This confirmed my suspicion that the deceased had recently inhaled carbon monoxide, as would have occurred had he been exposed to an escape of gas.’
‘Were the changes sufficiently far advanced to account for the death of the deceased?’
‘No, certainly not. The fatal effects of the inhalation of carbon monoxide depend upon the degree of saturation of the blood. The case becomes urgent when this degree of saturation reaches fifty per cent. But in the case of the deceased, I estimate that the degree of saturation was not more than five, or at the most ten per cent. Further, the cause of death in the case of poisoning by carbon monoxide is asphyxiation. In the case of deceased, the cause of death was certainly syncope.’
‘Perhaps, doctor, you will explain to the jury what is meant by syncope?’
‘Certainly. There are three modes of dying. Asphyxia, when the respiratory functions are arrested; syncope, when the circulation fails; and coma, when the brain is affected. The circulation may fail from the cessation of the heart’s action, from loss of blood, or from localisation of the blood in one part of the system. In the case of the deceased, the last two causes are ruled out, and I am therefore of the opinion that death was caused by a sudden cessation of the action of the heart. I can only repeat that I have been unable to find any reason for this having occurred.’
‘Then you can tell the jury nothing more than that death was due to syncope?’
‘That is all.’
‘Do you consider that the other appearances you have mentioned were contributory causes of death?’
‘It is very hard to say. They may have had a weakening effect upon the system. But neither by themselves nor collectively would they account for death.’
This concluded Dr Button’s evidence. As he left the box, the foreman of the jury leant forward and spoke to the Coroner in a low tone. The Coroner nodded. ‘Yes, certainly,’ he replied. ‘I will recall the witness. Mr Bryant!’
Philip reappeared, and took Doctor Button’s place in the box. He looked ill at ease, and his fingers worked nervously as he clasped the wooden ledge in front of him.
‘You told us, Mr Bryant, that you were at your uncle’s home on Sunday last,’ the Coroner continued. ‘On that occasion, did he say anything to you about having been wounded recently?’
‘He never mentioned anything of the kind. I noticed, however, that he had a very slight limp, as though his leg was stiff, but I put that down to a touch of rheumatism.’
‘I see. Did you by any chance notice a smell of gas about the house?’
A sudden recollection came to Hanslet, of the brief conversation he had had with Bryant on the previous evening. On being told of a case of poisoning in the house, he had immediately asked if there had been an escape of gas. What had put that idea into his head?
His reply to the coroner seemed to answer Hanslet’s question. ‘Well, now that you mention it, I did fancy that I smelt gas. I mentioned it to my cousin, Miss Rissington, but she said she couldn’t smell anything. So I put it down to my imagination, and thought no more about it.’
‘Can you account for the discovery of arsenic in the course of the post-mortem?’
‘I cannot. I know of no source from which the arsenic could have come.’
‘Thank you, Mr Bryant. I need trouble you no further. Doctor Oldland!’
Oldland entered t
he box, and described the collapse of Mr Pershore at Stand 1001. He detailed the steps which had been taken, and confirmed Doctor Button’s opinion that death had been due to syncope. This concluded the evidence.
The Coroner, addressing the jury, said that he had no option but to adjourn the inquest. It would be necessary to await the report of the Home Office analysts as to the amount of arsenic found in the body. Inquiries would also have to be made as to the source of the poison. He would adjourn for a week, and he hoped that by that time additional evidence would be available upon which the jury could come to a decision upon the circumstances of the deceased’s death.
The noise made by the rising of the court seemed to arouse Dr Priestley. He opened his eyes, looked about him, and got up from his seat. Then he walked up to the superintendent. ‘It would afford me great pleasure if you could make it convenient to dine with me this evening, Mr Hanslet,’ he said.
‘That’s very kind of you, Professor,’ Hanslet replied. ‘There’s nothing I’d like better, but I’ve got a busy time ahead of me. May I look in afterwards, say about nine o’clock, instead?’
‘Certainly, if that will be more convenient to you,’ and Dr Priestley left the court, in company with Oldland.
Hanslet had been watching Philip’s movements, and now intercepted him as he made for the door. ‘I’m sorry you left Firlands yesterday evening before I had a chance to talk to you, Mr Bryant,’ he said. ‘There are one or two questions I want to ask you.’
‘Oh, I was very much pressed for time yesterday evening,’ Philip replied. ‘But I could spare you a few minutes now, if you like.’
‘Thank you. We can talk here. Nobody will disturb us now that the inquest is over. You, I understand, are a solicitor, Mr Bryant. Did you act in that capacity for your uncle?’
