LITMIR.BIZ

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sick man had not talked to him at all, but lay, apparently reading, though he, Match, noticed that he never turned a page. But he took the open book as a signal that Mr. Craig did not want to be talked to.

      "At eleven the nurse came in. Something about the sick man's appearance must have startled her afresh. She asked Match to sit on a moment longer. He heard her using the telephone—telephoning to the doctor, as she told him afterward. He himself only thought that Mr. Craig looked very sleepy. Match went to bed on being relieved, and slept until he was awakened by the groans of the sick man, whose room was below his. He heard him calling out as though in great pain. This was just after midnight, as he saw on glancing at his watch before hurrying down to help the nurse.

      "Mr. Craig's eyes were open, but," Match went on, "I don't think he was rightly conscious. He asked what the time was. I said just past twelve, as near as no matter. He said: 'Twelve o'clock, and Guy hasn't come yet!' I replied that Mr. Houghton might come in the morning, and he said: 'Oh, is it night?' I told him it was, and his face cleared. He said: 'Be sure and bring him straight to me.' And on that"—Match shut his eyes with a look of sick repugnance at the memory—"he had an awful seizure. So bad that he called out to me: 'Match, I'm dying! They've poisoned me!' But, after a bit, it passed, and he seemed to grow drowsy again. The nurse went to wake her ladyship up. I don't think Mr. Craig rightly knew anyone when they came in. He seemed to be again in a sort of stupor. I thought that meant that he was better, but, around eight this morning, he had another dreadful attack and, after it, seemed to fall away as it were and died without opening his eyes again, at a quarter to nine. I telephoned to you, sir, just as Mr. Houghton was driving up in his car."

      "'They've poisoned me!'" Houghton repeated. "Surely, Match, Mr. Craig must have said something more definite to you. After calling out that? Or before?"

      "No, sir," Match said in a low voice, and Pointer did not believe him.

      "Were you in the room when Mr. Craig actually died?" Godolphin asked.

      "Yes, sir, and afterward, too. I didn't leave it till I locked the door when everyone had left. I handed the key to Mr. Houghton here, as the head of the family now."

      "So you were in the room last night practically continuously from nine o'clock on, with the exception of about an hour from eleven till past twelve?..." Godolphin wanted to have the hours clear in his mind.

      "Yes, sir. All the time."

      "Nothing has been taken out of the room?"

      "Nothing but the bed covers, sir. The nurse took them before I knew what she was about. The blankets, and pillows, and so on, sir. The sheets were left."

      "And these bed covers and pillows are where?"

      "In a hamper which I had taken into my pantry. Also I took the medicine bottle that had been used for Mr. Craig. It was empty but, even so, after he died as he did, I wrapped it in my handkerchief in case of fingerprints, and put it in my pocket. It's down in my pantry at this moment along with the hamper."

      "And the pantry door?" Pointer asked.

      "Locked, sir," Match replied with dignity. "And the key is here." He touched his breast-pocket significantly.

      "Good man!" Houghton said warmly. "Keep it so."

      "But I suppose you tidied up the room, put things in their proper places, and so on?" Pointer threw in casually.

      "No, sir, not a thing was touched except the bed, and the bottle of medicine. As I say, before I knew what she was doing, the nurse had the pillows and blankets off, but barring that, I wouldn't let her touch anything. She wanted to stay behind and tidy up, but I was firm. Of course, when Mr. Houghton arrived, I let him have the key, and can't speak for what has happened since."

      The doctors came in as he finished. Lindrum was very pale. He shook hands with the chief constable, whom he knew, and there were introductions all around.

      "As I just told Lady Craig," Lindrum began, in a voice that had a suppressed tenseness in it, "we suspect that death was due to the administration of arsenic. Until the autopsy, which must be held, of course, that is as much as I care to say."

      "Do you suspect a big dose?" Godolphin asked nevertheless.

      "Yes, as the actual cause of his death last night. But"—Lindrum flushed and then paled again—"but certain signs make us think that the poison must have been being administered for some weeks past as well." "Four weeks past?" Godolphin asked under his breath.

      "Not as long as twelve weeks is all we can say with certainty, I think." Gilchrist answered for the other.

      "How the deuce can you tell that?" Godolphin almost whispered, drawing him aside. "Merely as a matter of curiosity—"

      "Apparently there's none in his hair yet," was the brief but sufficient reply. Meanwhile, Lady Craig had turned to Lindrum. She took no trouble to lower her voice.

      "There was a good deal of arsenic in the tonic that you were giving him, wasn't there?"

      Lindrum quite scouted the idea that his medicine could have had any deleterious effect on his patient, unless the latter had been taking some other remedy or remedies, unknown to his medical attendant. As to the acute seizure of last night—having said that, he could say nothing more until the finding of the post-mortem. Lindrum seemed unable to stop talking—he had prescribed a variant of a new, but well-tried, tonic for malaria, and the solitary dose of it which had been given by the nurse at noon yesterday could not possibly have done any harm to, let alone killed, Craig.

      "But I thought Match found the bottle—" Houghton began. He did not get to the word "empty," for the eye of the chief constable was on him with an expression as though Houghton were a recruit, and had dropped his rifle on parade.

      Lindrum and the chief constable then discussed the arrangements to be made for the taking of the body to the nearest hospital. Gilchrist had promised to assist at the autopsy, and the house surgeon would be available as a third. The actual final analysis would be done by a Home Office expert. That settled, the two medical men would have hurried off, but Godolphin detained Lindrum.

      "I should be much obliged if you would not go to your poison cupboard from now on. I have no power to enforce that request until the finding of the autopsy is actually in my hands, but it would be a prudent step on your part, Lindrum."

      Lindrum's jaw muscles moved as though he set his teeth for a second. "Certainly," he said stiffly. "Here is the key." He detached it from the end of his watch-guard, and without another word left the room.

      "Obviously—" Lady Craig began as soon as the door closed behind them, "it was an overdose, or a mistake in the prescribing. A new bottle was begun yesterday. Robert Lindrum puts up his own medicines, and his sister Agatha helps him. Well—there you are!" She looked around the little circle. Something in Houghton's expression made her add, reluctantly, "Apparently, it wasn't suicide—"

      "No, Emily, it wasn't suicide," he said curtly. "But I want a word now with the colonel and the chief inspector, alone."

      "It's thoughtful of you to spare me," she murmured, as she let him open the door for her. "I'll go up and see if Jura Ivanoff is awake. Poor child!"

      Houghton, standing in the doorway, looking after her, saw her feet slow up more and more with every step of the stairs. She had forgotten him, she had forgotten the police, he felt sure, as with compressed lips she all but came to a standstill on the landing.

      He closed the door and led the way to the farther end of the room.

      "That idea of Lindrum's about doubled doses of medicine won't work. It wasn't only to Match that Ronald spoke of being poisoned," he began: "he wrote me to the same effect."

      Houghton now handed over the letter which he had received yesterday noon. Colonel Godolphin read it through with the closest attention, and his lips shaped themselves as though he were giving an inaudible whistle.

      "Well!" he said, finally passing it over to Pointer, "well!" Then, after a pause: "That certainly settles the question of suicide or a mistake in his medicine, as you say!

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