Death at Breakfast. John Rhode. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Rhode
Издательство: HarperCollins
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Жанр произведения: Зарубежные детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008268763
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that he lived alone with his half-sister, the girl you saw in the hall just now. The rest is up to you. I’ve got my work to attend to. You know where to find me if you want me.’

      And before Hanslet could protest, he had slipped out of the house.

      2

      The superintendent shrugged his shoulders. He had always considered Oldland a bit eccentric, though he fully recognised his abilities. The two men had been acquainted for some few years.

      Though Hanslet continued to stare at the body for some few moments, he did so more out of curiosity than in the hope of learning anything from it. He was fully prepared to accept Oldland’s statement. The problem before him would be simply expressed. The task of the police was to find out how the poison had been administered, and by whom.

      Hanslet turned swiftly on his heel, and left the sitting-room, to find Janet still rooted to the spot where he had last seen her. ‘Allow me to introduce myself,’ he said. ‘I am Superintendent Hanslet of the Criminal Investigation Department. Acting upon information received, I have come here to make inquiries. To begin with, may I ask you your name?

      She started, as though his words had awakened her from a deep reverie. ‘My name?’ she replied. ‘Janet Harleston.’

      ‘And the dead man was your brother?’

      ‘My half-brother, Victor Harleston. My father married twice. Both he and my mother have been dead for some years.’

      ‘You and your half-brother lived here alone?’

      ‘Yes. My father left the house to Victor. I stayed with him to look after him, since he was not married.’

      ‘I see. Now, will you tell me what you can of your brother’s illness? Everything that you can remember, please. But we need not stand here. I expect you would like to sit down?’

      She led the way into the dining-room, and sat down stiffly upon one of the chairs which stood against the wall. Hanslet seated himself beside her. Before them were displayed the remains of the interrupted breakfast.

      Janet began to speak without emotion, as though she were describing some remote event, entirely unconnected with herself. ‘I took him up his cup of tea at half-past seven, as I always do. He was all right then. I’m sure he was, for he looked just the same as he always did. I put his tray down by his bed …’

      Hanslet interrupted her. ‘One moment, Miss Harleston. Did you speak to your brother when you took him his tea?’

      ‘I asked him if he was awake, before I opened his door, and he answered me.’

      ‘You didn’t ask him how he was, or any similar question?’

      ‘No,’ she replied sharply. ‘I didn’t speak to him while I was in his room.’

      The tone of her voice did not escape Hanslet. It was clear to him that brother and sister had not been on the best of terms. But he did not comment on this. ‘What happened next?’ he asked.

      ‘I don’t know. I went down to the kitchen to get breakfast. It was a little after eight when I brought it in here. Victor came down a few minutes later. I saw that he looked rather pale, and I noticed that he had a piece of sticking-plaster on his face. I asked him if he had cut himself shaving, and he said something about any fool being able to tell that, since he wasn’t in the habit of putting plaster on his face to improve his appearance. I saw that he was as grumpy as usual, and didn’t say any more.’

      Hanslet made a mental note of that phrase, ‘as grumpy as usual.’ ‘You had no reason to think that your brother was seriously ill?’ he asked.

      ‘Not for a few minutes. I poured out his coffee and passed it to him. Usually he eats his breakfast and then drinks his coffee. This morning he took a piece of toast and a pat of butter, but though he broke the toast in half he didn’t eat any of it. And he didn’t eat any of the eggs and bacon I had done for him, either. He seemed impatient for his coffee to get cool, and, as soon as he could, he drank it all off at once.’

      ‘Had he previously drunk the cup of tea which you had brought him?’

      ‘I don’t know. I haven’t been up to his room since. I saw that his hand shook as he held the coffee-cup, and I wondered what was the matter. After he had drunk his coffee, he sat for a minute or two in his chair, twitching all over. Then he got up, as though he was so stiff that he could hardly move. He was so clumsy that he upset his chair. Then he staggered to the door, waving his arms and trying to speak. He was very sick as soon as he got into the hall, and then he swayed for a moment, and fell down flat. I ran out to him, and saw that he was very ill. He didn’t seem able to move, and he couldn’t speak. I thought he had a stroke, or something. So I ran out at once to fetch the doctor.’

      ‘Is Doctor Oldland your usual medical attendant?’

      ‘Oh, no. We had no regular doctor. Nobody has been ill in the house since my father died, and the doctor who attended him has gone away now. But I had often noticed Doctor Oldland’s plate when I was out shopping, and as he lives quite close, I went to him.’

      ‘Since there was nobody else in the house, you had to leave your brother alone while you went for the doctor?’

      A puzzled look came into her face. ‘That’s the funny part about it,’ she said, using the adjective in its commonly perverted sense. ‘I opened the front door and ran out, almost colliding with a man who was coming up the steps. He said, “Excuse me, are you Miss Harleston? I’m a friend of your brother’s.” I told him that my brother had been suddenly taken ill, and that I was just going for the doctor. He replied that he would stay with him while I was gone. I ran on towards Doctor Oldland’s, and I was so upset about Victor that I never gave the man another thought.’

      ‘But you and Doctor Oldland found him when you came back, I suppose?’

      ‘No, that’s the funny thing about it. We didn’t, there was nobody here.’

      ‘Are you sure that this man actually entered the house?’

      She hesitated. ‘I’m almost sure. You see, I was in a desperate hurry, and only stopped on the steps for a moment when he spoke to me. I feel pretty certain that he walked through the front door as I ran away, but I didn’t look back to see what had become of him. I’m sure I didn’t shut the door, and Doctor Oldland and I found it ajar when we got back here.’

      ‘I gather that this man was a stranger to you, Miss Harleston?’

      ‘I had never seen him before. He said he was a friend of my brother’s, which would have surprised me if I had had time to think, for I didn’t know that Victor had any friends. Oh! I’ve just thought! Perhaps he meant that he was a friend of Philip’s.’

      ‘Philip?’ Hanslet repeated inquiringly.

      ‘Yes, my real brother. He was here to supper last night, and perhaps this man thought that he had stayed for the night.’

      ‘Can you give any description of this man?’

      ‘I’m afraid I can’t. I shouldn’t know him again if I saw him. You understand how it was. I was thinking only of getting the doctor as soon as I could, and I didn’t take any notice of him.’

      ‘How long were you away from the house?’

      ‘Oh, not long. Not more than ten minutes, I should think. Doctor Oldland was very good, and came back with me at once.’

      Hanslet nodded absently. He was rather puzzled as to his next move. He wanted this girl out of the house, and yet it was imperative that she should be kept under close observation. ‘Have you any friends in London?’ he asked.

      ‘No, I hardly know anybody. Victor didn’t like people coming to the house.’

      ‘I don’t like the idea of you staying here alone, after the shock you’ve had. You mentioned your brother Philip. Where does he live?’

      ‘At Lassingford,