I nspector Neele sat in Mr. Fortescue’s sanctum behind Mr. Fortescue’s vast sycamore desk. One of his underlingswith a notebook sat unobstrusively against the wall near the door.
Inspector1 Neele had a smart soldierly appearance with crisp brown hair growing back from a rather low forehead.
When he uttered the phrase “just a matter of routine” those addressed were wont2 to think spitefully: “And routine isabout all you’re capable of!” They would have been quite wrong. Behind his unimaginative appearance, InspectorNeele was a highly imaginative thinker, and one of his methods of investigation3 was to propound4 to himself fantastictheories of guilt5 which he applied6 to such persons as he was interrogating7 at the time.
Miss Griffith, whom he had at once picked out with an unerring eye as being the most suitable person to give him asuccinct account of the events which had led to his being seated where he was, had just left the room having given himan admirable résumé of the morning’s happenings. Inspector Neele propounded8 to himself three separate highlycoloured reasons why the faithful doyenne of the typists’ room should have poisoned her employer’s mid-morning cupof tea, and rejected them as unlikely.
He classified Miss Griffith as (a) Not the type of a poisoner,(b) Not in love with her employer, (c) No pronounced mental instability, (d) Not a woman who cherished grudges9.
That really seemed to dispose of Miss Griffith except as a source of accurate information.
Inspector Neele glanced at the telephone. He was expecting a call from St. Jude’s Hospital at any moment now.
It was possible, of course, that Mr. Fortescue’s sudden illness was due to natural causes, but Dr. Isaacs of BethnalGreen had not thought so and Sir Edwin Sandeman of Harley Street had not thought so.
Inspector Neele pressed a buzzer10 conveniently situated11 at his left hand and demanded that Mr. Fortescue’s personalsecretary should be sent in to him.
Miss Grosvenor had recovered a little of her poise12, but not much. She came in apprehensively13, with nothing of theswanlike glide14 about her motions, and said at once defensively:
“I didn’t do it!”
Inspector Neele murmured conversationally15: “No?”
He indicated the chair where Miss Grosvenor was wont to place herself, pad in hand, when summoned to takedown Mr. Fortescue’s letters. She sat down now with reluctance16 and eyed Inspector Neele in alarm. Inspector Neele,his mind playing imaginatively on the themes Seduction? Blackmail17? Platinum18 Blonde in Court? etc., lookedreassuring and just a little stupid.
“There wasn’t anything wrong with the tea,” said Miss Grosvenor. “There couldn’t have been.”
“I see,” said Inspector Neele. “Your name and address, please?”
“Grosvenor. Irene Grosvenor.”
“How do you spell it?”
“Oh. Like the Square.”
“And your address?”
“14 Rushmoor Road, Muswell Hill.”
Inspector Neele nodded in a satisfied fashion.
“No seduction,” he said to himself. “No Love Nest. Respectable home with parents. No blackmail.”
Another good set of speculative19 theories washed out.
“And so it was you who made the tea?” he said pleasantly.
“Well, I had to. I always do, I mean.”
Unhurried, Inspector Neele took her closely through the morning ritual of Mr. Fortescue’s tea. The cup and saucerand teapot had already been packed up and dispatched to the appropriate quarter for analysis. Now Inspector Neelelearned that Irene Grosvenor and only Irene Grosvenor had handled that cup and saucer and teapot. The kettle hadbeen used for making the office tea and had been refilled from the cloakroom tap by Miss Grosvenor.
“And the tea itself?”
“It was Mr. Fortescue’s own tea, special China tea. It’s kept on the shelf in my room next door.”
Inspector Neele nodded. He inquired about sugar and heard that Mr. Fortescue didn’t take sugar.
The telephone rang. Inspector Neele picked up the receiver. His face changed a little.
“St. Jude’s?”
He nodded to Miss Grosvenor in dismissal.
“That’s all for now, thank you, Miss Grosvenor.”
Miss Grosvenor sped out of the room hurriedly.
Inspector Neele listened carefully to the thin unemotional tones speaking from St. Jude’s Hospital. As the voicespoke he made a few cryptic21 signs with a pencil on the corner of the blotter in front of him.
“Died five minutes ago, you say?” he asked. His eye went to the watch on his wrist. Twelve forty-three, he wrote onthe blotter.
The unemotional voice said that Dr. Bernsdorff himself would like to speak to Inspector Neele.
Inspector Neele said, “Right. Put him through,” which rather scandalized the owner of the voice, who had alloweda certain amount of reverence22 to seep23 into the official accents.
There were then various clicks, buzzes, and far-off ghostly murmurs24. Inspector Neele sat patiently waiting.
Then without warning a deep bass25 roar caused him to shift the receiver an inch or two away from his ear.
“Hallo, Neele, you old vulture. At it again with your corpses26?”
Inspector Neele and Professor Bernsdorff of St. Jude’s had been brought together over a case of poisoning just overa year ago and had remained on friendly terms.
“Our man’s dead, I hear, doc.”
“Yes. We couldn’t do anything by the time he got here.”
“And the cause of death?”
“There will have to be an autopsy27, naturally. Very interesting case. Very interesting indeed. Glad I was able to bein on it.”
The professional gusto in Bernsdorff’s rich tones told Inspector Neele one thing at least.
“I gather you don’t think it was natural death,” he said dryly.
“Not a dog’s chance of it,” said Dr. Bernsdorff robustly28. “I’m speaking unofficially, of course,” he added withbelated caution.
“Of course. Of course. That’s understood. He was poisoned?”
“Definitely. And what’s more—this is quite unofficial, you understand—just between you and me—I’d be preparedto make a bet on what the poison was.”
“In-deed?”
“Taxine, my boy. Taxine.”
“Taxine? Never heard of it.”
“I know. Most unusual. Really delightfully29 unusual! I don’t say I’d have spotted30 it myself if I hadn’t had a caseonly three or four weeks ago. Couple of kids playing dolls’ tea parties—pulled berries off a yew31 tree and used them fortea.”
“Is that what it is? Yew berries?”
“Berries or leaves. Highly poisonous. Taxine, of course, is the alkaloid. Don’t think I’ve heard of a case where itwas used deliberately32. Really most interesting and unusual . . . You’ve no idea, Neele, how tired one gets of theinevitable weed killer34. Taxine is a real treat. Of course, I may be wrong—don’t quote me, for Heaven’s sake—but Idon’t think so. Interesting for you, too, I should think. Varies the routine!”
“A good time is to be had by all, is that the idea? With the exception of the victim.”
“Yes, yes, poor fellow.” Dr. Bernsdorff’s tone was perfunctory. “Very bad luck on him.”
“Did he say anything before he died?”
“Well, one of your fellows was sitting by him with a notebook. He’ll have the exact details. He muttered somethingonce about tea—that he’d been given something in his tea at the office—but that’s nonsense, of course.”
“Why is it nonsense?” Inspector Neele, who had been reviewing speculatively35 the picture of the glamorous36 MissGrosvenor adding yew berries to a brew37 of tea, and finding it incongruous, spoke20 sharply.
“Because the stuff couldn’t possibly have worked so soon. I understand the symptoms came on immediately he haddrunk the tea?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Well, there are very few poisons that act as quickly as that, apart from the cyanides, of course—and possibly purenicotine—”
“And it definitely wasn’t cyanide or nicotine38?”
“My dear fellow. He’d have been dead before the ambulance arrived. Oh no, there’s no question of anything of thatkind. I did suspect strychnine, but the convulsions were not at all typical. Still unofficial, of course, but I’ll stake myreputation it’s taxine.”
“How long would that take to work?”
“Depends. An hour. Two hours, three hours. Deceased looked like a hearty39 eater. If he had had a big breakfast, thatwould slow things up.”
“Breakfast,” said Inspector Neele thoughtfully. “Yes, it looks like breakfast.”
“Breakfast with the Borgias.” Dr. Bernsdorff laughed cheerfully. “Well, good hunting, my lad.”
“Thanks, doctor. I’d like to speak to my sergeant40 before you ring off.”
Again there were clicks and buzzes and far-off ghostly voices. And then the sound of heavy breathing camethrough, an inevitable33 prelude41 to Sergeant Hay’s conversation.
“Sir,” he said urgently. “Sir.”
“Neele here. Did the deceased say anything I ought to know?”
“Said it was the tea. The tea he had at the office. But the M.O. says not. . . .”
“Yes, I know about that. Nothing else?”
“No, sir. But there’s one thing that’s odd. The suit he was wearing—I checked the contents of the pockets. Theusual stuff—handkerchief, keys, change, wallet—but there was one thing that’s downright peculiar42. The right-handpocket of his jacket. It had cereal in it.”
“Cereal?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you mean by cereal? Do you mean a breakfast food? Farmer’s Glory or Wheatifax. Or do you mean cornor barley—”
“That’s right, sir. Grain it was. Looked like rye to me. Quite a lot of it.”
“I see . . . Odd . . . But it might have been a sample—something to do with a business deal.”
“Quite so, sir—but I thought I’d better mention it.”
“Quite right, Hay.”
Inspector Neele sat staring ahead of him for a few moments after he had replaced the telephone receiver. Hisorderly mind was moving from Phase I to Phase II of the inquiry43—from suspicion of poisoning to certainty ofpoisoning. Professor Bernsdorff’s words may have been unofficial, but Professor Bernsdorff was not a man to bemistaken in his beliefs. Rex Fortescue had been poisoned and the poison had probably been administered one to threehours before the onset44 of the first symptoms. It seemed probable, therefore, that the office staff could be given a cleanbill of health.
Neele got up and went into the outer office. A little desultory45 work was being done but the typewriters were notgoing at full speed.
“Miss Griffith? Can I have another word with you?”
“Certainly, Mr. Neele. Could some of the girls go out to lunch? It’s long past their regular time. Or would youprefer that we get something sent in?”
“No. They can go to lunch. But they must return afterwards.”
“Of course.”
Miss Griffith followed Neele back into the private office. She sat down in her composed efficient way.
Without preamble46, Inspector Neele said:
“I have heard from St. Jude’s Hospital. Mr. Fortescue died at 12:43.”
Miss Griffith received the news without surprise, merely shook her head.
“I was afraid he was very ill,” she said.
She was not, Neele noted47, at all distressed48.
“Will you please give me particulars of his home and family?”
“Certainly. I have already tried to get into communication with Mrs. Fortescue, but it seems she is out playing golf.
She was not expected home to lunch. There is some uncertainty49 as to which course she is playing on.” She added in anexplanatory manner, “They live at Baydon Heath, you know, which is a centre for three well-known golf courses.”
Inspector Neele nodded. Baydon Heath was almost entirely50 inhabited by rich city men. It had an excellent trainservice, was only twenty miles from London and was comparatively easy to reach by car even in the rush of morningand evening traffic.
“The exact address, please, and the telephone number?”
“Bayden Heath 3400. The name of the house is Yewtree Lodge51.”
“What?” The sharp query52 slipped out before Inspector Neele could control it. “Did you say Yewtree Lodge?”
“Yes.”
Miss Griffith looked faintly curious, but Inspector Neele had himself in hand again.
“Can you give me particulars of his family?”
“Mrs. Fortescue is his second wife. She is much younger than he is. They were married about two years ago. Thefirst Mrs. Fortescue has been dead a long time. There are two sons and a daughter of the first marriage. The daughterlives at home and so does the elder son, who is a partner in the firm. Unfortunately he is away in the North of Englandtoday on business. He is expected to return tomorrow.”
“When did he go away?”
“The day before yesterday.”
“Have you tried to get in touch with him?”
“Yes. After Mr. Fortescue was removed to hospital I rang up the Midland Hotel in Manchester where I thought hemight be staying, but he had left early this morning. I believe he was also going to Sheffield and Leicester, but I amnot sure about that. I can give you the names of certain firms in those cities whom he might be visiting.”
Certainly an efficient woman, thought the inspector, and if she murdered a man she would probably murder himvery efficiently53, too. But he forced himself to abandon these speculations54 and concentrate once more on Mr.
Fortescue’s home front.
“There is a second son you said?”
“Yes. But owing to a disagreement with his father he lives abroad.”
“Are both sons married?”
“Yes. Mr. Percival has been married for three years. He and his wife occupy a self-contained flat in YewtreeLodge, though they are moving into their own house at Baydon Heath very shortly.”
“You were not able to get in touch with Mrs. Percival Fortescue when you rang up this morning?”
“She had gone to London for the day.” Miss Griffith went on, “Mr. Lancelot got married less than a year ago. Tothe widow of Lord Frederick Anstice. I expect you’ve seen pictures of her. In the Tatler—with horses, you know. Andat point-to-points.”
Miss Griffith sounded a little breathless and her cheeks were faintly flushed. Neele, who was quick to catch themoods of human beings, realized that this marriage had thrilled the snob55 and the romantic in Miss Griffith. Thearistocracy was the aristocracy to Miss Griffith and the fact that the late Lord Frederick Anstice had had a somewhatunsavoury reputation in sporting circles was almost certainly not known to her. Freddie Anstice had blown his brainsout just before an inquiry by the Stewards56 into the running of one of his horses. Neele remembered something vaguelyabout his wife. She had been the daughter of an Irish Peer and had been married before to an airman who had beenkilled in the Battle of Britain.
And now, it seemed, she was married to the black sheep of the Fortescue family, for Neele assumed that thedisagreement with his father, referred to primly57 by Miss Griffith, stood for some disgraceful incident in youngLancelot Fortescue’s career.
Lancelot Fortescue! What a name! And what was the other son—Percival? He wondered what the first Mrs.
Fortescue had been like? She’d had a curious taste in Christian58 names. . . .
He drew the phone towards him and dialled TOL. He asked for Baydon Heath 3400.
Presently a man’s voice said:
“Baydon Heath 3400.”
“I want to speak to Mrs. Fortescue or Miss Fortescue.”
“Sorry. They aren’t in, either of ’em.”
The voice struck Inspector Neele as slightly alcoholic59.
“Are you the butler?”
“That’s right.”
“Mr. Fortescue has been taken seriously ill.”
“I know. They rung up and said so. But there’s nothing I can do about it. Mr. Val’s away up North and Mrs.
Fortescue’s out playing golf. Mrs. Val’s gone up to London but she’ll be back for dinner and Miss Elaine’s out withher Brownies.”
“Is there no one in the house I can speak to about Mr. Fortescue’s illness? It’s important.”
“Well—I don’t know.” The man sounded doubtful. “There’s Miss Ramsbottom—but she don’t ever speak over thephone. Or there’s Miss Dove—she’s what you might call the ’ousekeeper.”
“I’ll speak to Miss Dove, please.”
“I’ll try and get hold of her.”
His retreating footsteps were audible through the phone. Inspector Neele heard no approaching footsteps but aminute or two later a woman’s voice spoke.
“This is Miss Dove speaking.”
The voice was low and well poised60, with clear-cut enunciation61. Inspector Neele formed a favourable62 picture ofMiss Dove.
“I am sorry to have to tell you, Miss Dove, that Mr. Fortescue died in St. Jude’s Hospital a short time ago. He wastaken suddenly ill in his office. I am anxious to get in touch with his relatives—”
“Of course. I had no idea—” She broke off. Her voice held no agitation63, but it was shocked. She went on: “It is allmost unfortunate. The person you really want to get in touch with is Mr. Percival Fortescue. He would be the one tosee to all the necessary arrangements. You might be able to get in touch with him at the Midland in Manchester orpossibly at the Grand in Leicester. Or you might try Shearer64 and Bonds of Leicester. I don’t know their telephonenumber, I’m afraid, but I know they are a firm on whom he was going to call and they might be able to inform youwhere he would be likely to be today. Mrs. Fortescue will certainly be in to dinner and she may be in to tea. It will bea great shock to her. It must have been very sudden? Mr. Fortescue was quite well when he left here this morning.”
“You saw him before he left?”
“Oh yes. What was it? Heart?”
“Did he suffer from heart trouble?”
“No—no—I don’t think so—But I thought as it was so sudden—” She broke off. “Are you speaking from St.
Jude’s Hospital? Are you a doctor?”
“No, Miss Dove, I’m not a doctor. I’m speaking from Mr. Fortescue’s office in the city. I am Detective InspectorNeele of the CID and I shall be coming down to see you as soon as I can get there.”
“Detective Inspector? Do you mean—what do you mean?”
“It was a case of sudden death, Miss Dove; and when there is a sudden death we get called to the scene, especiallywhen the deceased man hasn’t seen a doctor lately—which I gather was the case?”
It was only the faintest suspicion of a question mark but the young woman responded.
“I know. Percival made an appointment twice for him, but he wouldn’t keep it. He was quite unreasonable—they’ve all been worried—”
She broke off and then resumed in her former assured manner.
“If Mrs. Fortescue returns to the house before you arrive, what do you want me to tell her?”
Practical as they make ’em, thought Inspector Neele.
Aloud he said:
“Just tell her that in a case of sudden death we have to make a few inquiries65. Routine inquiries.”
He hung up.
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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propound
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| v.提出 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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interrogating
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| n.询问技术v.询问( interrogate的现在分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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grudges
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| 不满，怨恨，妒忌( grudge的名词复数 ) | |
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buzzer
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| n.蜂鸣器；汽笛 | |
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situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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glide
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| n./v.溜，滑行；(时间)消逝 | |
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conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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platinum
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| n.白金 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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seep
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| v.渗出，渗漏；n.渗漏，小泉，水（油）坑 | |
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murmurs
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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autopsy
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| n.尸体解剖；尸检 | |
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robustly
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| adv.要用体力地，粗鲁地 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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spotted
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yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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speculatively
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glamorous
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| adj.富有魅力的；美丽动人的；令人向往的 | |
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brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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nicotine
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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onset
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| n.进攻，袭击，开始，突然开始 | |
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desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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preamble
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| n.前言；序文 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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efficiently
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| adv.高效率地，有能力地 | |
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54
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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55
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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56
stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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57
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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59
alcoholic
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| adj.（含）酒精的，由酒精引起的；n.酗酒者 | |
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60
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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61
enunciation
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| n.清晰的发音；表明，宣言；口齿 | |
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62
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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63
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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64
shearer
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| n.剪羊毛的人；剪切机 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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