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Chapter Eight
I
of the ham. Samples of tea, coffee and sugar, for what they’re worth. Ac-
There was a good lot of coffee left over and they had it in the servants’ hall
at elevenses—that’s important, I should say.”
“Yes, that’s important. Shows that if he took it in his coffee, it must have
been slipped into the actual cup.”
“By one of those present. Exactly. I’ve inquired, cautious like, about the
Nobody seems to know anything about the cereal in his pocket, either … It
just seems daft to them. Seems daft to me, too. He doesn’t seem to have
been one of those food faddists who’ll eat any mortal thing so long as it
isn’t cooked. My sister’s husband’s like that. Raw carrots, raw peas, raw
headquarters on the line. Contact had been made with Mr. Percival Fortes-
cue, who was returning to London immediately.
As the inspector replaced the telephone, a car drew up at the front door.
Crump went to the door and opened it. The woman who stood there had
her arms full of parcels. Crump took them from her.
“Thanks, Crump. Pay the taxi, will you? I’ll have tea now. Is Mrs. Fortes-
cue or Miss Elaine in?”
The butler hesitated, looking back over his shoulder.
“We’ve had bad news, ma’am,” he said. “About the master.”
“About Mr. Fortescue?”
Neele came forward. Crump said: “This is Mrs. Percival, sir.”
“What is it? What’s happened? An accident?”
The inspector looked her over as he replied. Mrs. Percival Fortescue was
a plump woman with a discontented mouth. Her age he judged to be
about thirty. Her questions came with a kind of eagerness. The thought
flashed across his mind that she must be very bored.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Fortescue was taken to St. Jude’s
Hospital this morning seriously ill and has since died.”
“Died? You mean he’s dead?” The news was clearly even more sensa-
tional than she had hoped for. “Dear me—this is a surprise. My husband’s
away. You’ll have to get in touch with him. He’s in the North somewhere. I
dare say they’ll know at the office. He’ll have to see to everything. Things
always happen at the most awkward moment, don’t they.”
She paused for a moment, turning things over in her mind.
“It all depends, I suppose,” she said, “where they’ll have the funeral.
Down here, I suppose. Or will it be in London?”
“That will be for the family to say.”
“Of course. I only just wondered.” For the first time she took direct cog-
nisance of the man who was speaking to her.
“Are you from the office?” she asked. “You’re not a doctor, are you?”
“I’m a police officer. Mr. Fortescue’s death was very sudden and—”
She interrupted him.
“Do you mean he was murdered?”
It was the first time that word had been spoken. Neele surveyed her
eager questioning face carefully.
“Now why should you think that, madam?”
“Well, people are sometimes. You said sudden. And you’re police. Have
you seen her about it? What did she say?”
“I don’t quite understand to whom you are referring?”
“Adele, of course. I always told Val his father was crazy to go marrying a
woman years younger than himself. There’s no fool like an old fool. Besot-
nice mess we’re all in. Pictures in the paper and reporters coming round.”
She paused, obviously visualizing10 the future in a series of crude highly
pleasing. She turned back to him.
In a repressive voice Inspector Neele said:
and an inquest.”
“But you know already, don’t you? Or you wouldn’t come down here.”
There was a sudden shrewdness in her plump rather foolish face.
“You’ve been asking about what he ate and drank, I suppose? Dinner
last night. Breakfast this morning. And all the drinks, of course.”
with caution:
“It seems possible that Mr. Fortescue’s illness resulted from something
he ate at breakfast.”
“Breakfast?” She seemed surprised. “That’s difficult. I don’t see how… .”
She paused and shook her head.
“I don’t see how she could have done it, then … unless she slipped some-
thing into the coffee—when Elaine and I weren’t looking… .”
“Your tea is all ready in the library, Mrs. Val.”
Mrs. Val jumped.
“Oh thank you, Miss Dove. Yes, I could do with a cup of tea. Really, I feel
quite bowled over. What about you, Mr.—Inspector—”
“Thank you, not just now.”
The plump figure hesitated and then went slowly away.
Inspector Neele did not reply.
Mary Dove went on:
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Where can I find the housemaid, Ellen?”
“I will take you to her. She’s just gone upstairs.”
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