There seemed to be little more to be done for the present. The case was clear as daylight. Harleston had been poisoned by nicotine administered in his early tea, and his sister was the only person who could have administered it. Well, Hanslet thought, she was in safe keeping till she was wanted, anyhow.
Dr Bishop went off with the material for analysis. A few minutes after his departure the ambulance men arrived and the body was taken away to the mortuary. Hanslet remained alone in possession of the house.
It seemed, on the face of it, as though there was nothing more to be done in Matfield Street. And yet Hanslet could not tear himself away. He had an uncomfortable feeling that the house possessed some secret which he had not yet succeeded in penetrating. Everything hitherto had been too simple, too obvious. Why should the girl have left that most compromising bottle on her dressing-table when she had had every opportunity of removing it? Why had she not cleared away the tea-tray before summoning Dr Oldland? And yet, unless Harleston had himself put the nicotine in his tea, her guilt was manifest.
Once more Hanslet began to prowl restlessly about the house. His wanderings took him into the bathroom. Here there were abundant signs of Harleston’s toilet. The bath had recently been used and had been cleaned. On a ledge beside the wash basin was an array of shaving materials. A safety razor, rinsed and not dried. A stick of shaving soap, and a shaving brush. Rather to Hanslet’s surprise he found that the brush was already dry. Yet Harleston had undoubtedly shaved himself that morning. The smoothness of his cheeks was sufficient evidence of that. And he had cut himself while doing it.
He had certainly cut himself. There were two or three drops of blood on the edge of the basin. A roll of sticking plaster and a pair of scissors lay beside the shaving brush. The only towel in the room was a rough bath towel, and curiously enough, there were no traces of blood on this.
However, there was nothing here to throw any light upon Harleston’s death. Hanslet, remembering the bureau which he had seen in the dining-room, went downstairs once more. The bureau stood as Oldland had noticed it, with the key in the lock. Hanslet opened it. Immediately inside were a few sheets of headed notepaper. He removed these and made a further search. Harleston appeared to have used the desk to contain his private papers and accounts. There was nothing else of interest in it.
Hanslet glanced at the sheets of headed paper. They bore the inscription of Novoshave Ltd. with an address in Oxford Street. He wondered idly how they came to be in Harleston’s possession. He put them back where he had found them, locked up the desk and put the bunch of keys in his pocket.
There was a second bureau in the sitting-room, and Hanslet thought that it might be as well to examine this. He found it locked, but the lock was a very flimsy affair, and he had no difficulty in breaking it open. Inside was an untidy mass of letters and household bills. It was easy to guess that Janet was the user of this bureau. Hanslet picked up the letters and glanced through them. One, signed Philip, caught his eye. It bore the address, Hart’s Farm, Lassingford, and was dated on the previous Friday. Its contents were brief and to the point.
‘DEAR JANET. I will come up on Sunday afternoon and put forward the proposition I mentioned to you before. Victor, I suppose, will make himself unpleasant about it, as usual. If only you could get him out of the way there would be no difficulty.
Cheerio, Yours, PHILIP.’
Hanslet smiled grimly as he read this last sentence. Get him out of the way! He was pretty effectually out of the way now, at all events. And what was this proposition that brother and sister had between them?
Hanslet tore himself away from the house at last, still not quite satisfied in his mind. His immediate problem was, how to deal with Janet Harleston. Should he arrest her on the evidence he had already obtained? On the whole he thought better not. Let her remain at large for the present until the case was complete. It would, for instance, be necessary to ascertain the source of the nicotine.
3
Junior Station-Inspector James Waghorn, familiarly known to his associates at Scotland Yard as ‘Jimmy’ had made considerable progress in his career. Since he had so nearly lost his life in the course of his investigations in the Threlfall Murder, he had become considerably more circumspect. He had found favour with his superiors and now occupied a room of his own at the Yard. Although not yet entrusted with cases of the first importance, he had more than once made himself useful as an assistant to men of greater experience. Hanslet in particular found him a very useful collaborator.
Jimmy was the finished product of Cambridge and the Metropolitan Police College. To his relatively high standard of education, he added an intense enthusiasm for the profession which he had adopted. He thoroughly enjoyed police work, especially that part of it which dealt with the detection of crime. Already he had learnt to combine the experience of the older members of the Force with a certain natural ability for differentiating between the false and the true.
The arrival of Janet Harleston, escorted by the imperturbable Carling, afforded him no surprise. Hanslet was given to issuing instructions without adding any explanation. His duty was to entertain this girl, without the slightest knowledge of the why or wherefore. She was obviously under the influence of some strong emotion, but what it was Jimmy found himself unable to discover. She seemed to think that Jimmy knew what had happened and their conversation was, at first, not very explicit.
But it soon transpired that her most pressing desire was to communicate with her brother Philip. Jimmy offered her every assistance and assisted her to compile a telegram. In its final form this read as follows:
‘Harleston, Hart’s Farm, Lassingford. Victor dead very sudden come at once to Scotland Yard.
JANET.’
This telegram was despatched at once and while awaiting the reply Jimmy set himself to study his unexpected visitor.
He soon made up his mind that whatever emotion it was that gripped her it was not profound grief. She neither wept, nor showed that frozen look so often produced by a sudden bereavement. The death of Victor had not touched her heart, of that Jimmy felt pretty certain. Was she suffering from remorse? Possibly, but Jimmy thought not. It seemed to him rather that she was puzzled—profoundly puzzled. And perhaps, as the occasional flick of her eyelids seemed to suggest, she was relieved.
She displayed no desire to talk about what had happened at Matfield Street. Indeed, after her first nervousness due to her unfamiliar surroundings had left her, she showed no disposition to talk at all. Jimmy tried her on two or three subjects but obtained no response. In the end they relapsed into a rather uncomfortable silence.
All at once she spoke abruptly, as though her thoughts had taken a practical turn.
‘Oh, I ought to let Mr Mowbray know at once,’ she exclaimed.
‘Mr Mowbray?’ inquired Jimmy politely.
‘Yes, he’s our lawyer. He’ll have to see to things, won’t he?’
It struck Jimmy that Mr Mowbray might have more to see to than the girl realised.
‘Where does he live?’ he asked.
‘In Lincoln’s Inn. Perhaps you could telephone to him for me.’
Jimmy hesitated. If he were to telephone the lawyer, he would almost certainly come round to the Yard at once and insist upon interviewing his client. This might not conform to Hanslet’s wishes. Jimmy had already learnt that under certain circumstances, detectives do not welcome lawyers. The latter had a way of seeing further than their clients. They would suggest a refusal to answer certain questions, or even object that those questions should not be put. Hanslet would probably turn up sooner or later to interview this girl, and he might not be best pleased if he found her under the protection of her lawyer. So, on the whole, Jimmy thought it best to temporise.
‘I think it would be better not to telephone,’ he said. ‘Telephone messages are so apt to be misunderstood. Besides,