The search for the poisoner was limited to the domestic staff at Firlands, and recent visitors to the house. Hanslet shared Doctor Formby’s conviction that Mrs Markle was innocent. If Jessie had been the culprit, she would have hardly have gone to the length of eating so many herself, even in the attempt to avert suspicion.
It seemed far more likely that one of Mr Pershore’s friends or relations was the guilty party. Hanslet proceeded to make a list of these, with appropriate comments. Philip Bryant, first. As Mr Pershore’s nephew he was frequently a visitor to the house. His movements in it would be unquestioned. He had spent Sunday afternoon there. His behaviour had been curious. On being told of a case of poisoning, he had evinced an emotion which, while it might have been due to natural horror, might also have been due to a guilty conscience. And yet, on being told that the poisoning was due to arsenic, his emotion had changed to one of bewilderment. Finally, why had he left the house so unaccountably? His behaviour distinctly suggested that he knew more about his uncle’s death than he had chosen to reveal. Yet, if Mrs Markle’s information about Mr Pershore’s will was correct, it would seem that Bryant had very little to gain by his uncle’s death.
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.’
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