Chapter VI. The Inquest

by Agatha Christie

　　In the interval before the inquest, Poirot was unfailing in hisactivity. Twice he was closeted with Mr. Wells. He also tooklong walks into the country. I rather resented his not taking meinto his confidence, the more so as I could not in the leastguess what he was driving at.It occurred to me that he might have been making inquiries atRaikes's farm; so, finding him out when I called at LeastwaysCottage on Wednesday evening, I walked over there by the fields,hoping to meet him. But there was no sign of him, and Ihesitated to go right up to the farm itself. As I walked away, Imet an aged rustic, who leered at me cunningly."You'm from the Hall, bain't you?" he asked."Yes. I'm looking for a friend of mine whom I thought might havewalked this way.""A little chap? As waves his hands when he talks? One of themBelgies from the village?""Yes," I said eagerly. "He has been here, then?""Oh, ay, he's been here, right enough. More'n once too. Friendof yours, is he? Ah, you gentlemen from the Hall-- you'n a prettylot!" And he leered more jocosely than ever."Why, do the gentlemen from the Hall come here often?" I asked,as carelessly as I could.He winked at me knowingly."One does, mister. Naming no names, mind. And a very liberalgentleman too! Oh, thank you, sir, I'm sure."I walked on sharply. Evelyn Howard had been right then, and Iexperienced a sharp twinge of disgust, as I thought of AlfredInglethorp's liberality with another woman's money. Had thatpiquant gipsy face been at the bottom of the crime, or was it thebaser mainspring of money? Probably a judicious mixture of both.On one point, Poirot seemed to have a curious obsession. He onceor twice observed to me that he thought Dorcas must have made anerror in fixing the time of the quarrel. He suggested to herrepeatedly that it was 4.30, and not 4 o'clock when she had heardthe voices.But Dorcas was unshaken. Quite an hour, or even more, hadelapsed between the time when she had heard the voices and 5o'clock, when she had taken tea to her mistress.The inquest was held on Friday at the Stylites Arms in thevillage. Poirot and I sat together, not being required to giveevidence.The preliminaries were gone through. The jury viewed the body,and John Cavendish gave evidence of identification.Further questioned, he described his awakening in the early hoursof the morning, and the circumstances of his mother's death.The medical evidence was next taken. There was a breathlesshush, and every eye was fixed on the famous London specialist,who was known to be one of the greatest authorities of the day onthe subject of toxicology.In a few brief words, he summed up the result of the post-mortem.Shorn of its medical phraseology and technicalities, it amountedto the fact that Mrs. Inglethorp had met her death as the resultof strychnine poisoning. Judging from the quantity recovered,she must have taken not less than three-quarters of a grain ofstrychnine, but probably one grain or slightly over."Is it possible that she could have swallowed the poison byaccident?" asked the Coroner."I should consider it very unlikely. Strychnine is not used fordomestic purposes, as some poisons are, and there arerestrictions placed on its sale.""Does anything in your examination lead you to determine how thepoison was administered?""No.""You arrived at Styles before Dr. Wilkins, I believe?""That is so. The motor met me just outside the lodge gates, andI hurried there as fast as I could.""Will you relate to us exactly what happened next?""I entered Mrs. Inglethorp's room. She was at that moment in atypical tetanic convulsion. She turned towards me, and gaspedout: 'Alfred--Alfred----' ""Could the strychnine have been administered in Mrs. Inglethorp'safter-dinner coffee which was taken to her by her husband?""Possibly, but strychnine is a fairly rapid drug in its action.The symptoms appear from one to two hours after it has beenswallowed. It is retarded under certain conditions, none ofwhich, however, appear to have been present in this case. Ipresume Mrs. Inglethorp took the coffee after dinner about eighto'clock, whereas the symptoms did not manifest themselves untilthe early hours of the morning, which, on the face of it, pointsto the drug having been taken much later in the evening.""Mrs. Inglethorp was in the habit of drinking a cup of coco inthe middle of the night. Could the strychnine have beenadministered in that?""No, I myself took a sample of the coco remaining in the saucepanand had it analysed. There was no strychnine present."I heard Poirot chuckle softly beside me."How did you know?" I whispered."Listen.""I should say"--the doctor was continuing--"that I would havebeen considerably surprised at any other result.""Why?""Simply because strychnine has an unusually bitter taste. It canbe detected in a solution of 1 in 70,000, and can only bedisguised by some strongly flavoured substance. Coco would bequite powerless to mask it."One of the jury wanted to know if the same objection applied tocoffee."No. Coffee has a bitter taste of its own which would probablycover the taste of strychnine.""Then you consider it more likely that the drug was administeredin the coffee, but that for some unknown reason its action wasdelayed.""Yes, but, the cup being completely smashed, there is nopossibility of analyzing its contents."This concluded Dr. Bauerstein's evidence. Dr. Wilkinscorroborated it on all points. Sounded as to the possibility ofsuicide, he repudiated it utterly. The deceased, he said,suffered from a weak heart, but otherwise enjoyed perfect health,and was of a cheerful and well-balanced disposition. She wouldbe one of the last people to take her own life.Lawrence Cavendish was next called. His evidence was quiteunimportant, being a mere repetition of that of his brother.Just as he was about to step down, he paused, and said ratherhesitatingly:"I should like to make a suggestion if I may?"He glanced deprecatingly at the Coroner, who replied briskly:"Certainly, Mr. Cavendish, we are here to arrive at the truth ofthis matter, and welcome anything that may lead to furtherelucidation.""It is just an idea of mine," explained Lawrence. "Of course Imay be quite wrong, but it still seems to me that my mother'sdeath might be accounted for by natural means.""How do you make that out, Mr. Cavendish?""My mother, at the time of her death, and for some time beforeit, was taking a tonic containing strychnine.""Ah!" said the Coroner.The jury looked up, interested."I believe," continued Lawrence, "that there have been caseswhere the cumulative effect of a drug, administered for sometime, has ended by causing death. Also, is it not possible thatshe may have taken an overdose of her medicine by accident?""This is the first we have heard of the deceased takingstrychnine at the time of her death. We are much obliged to you,Mr. Cavendish."Dr. Wilkins was recalled and ridiculed the idea."What Mr. Cavendish suggests is quite impossible. Any doctorwould tell you the same. Strychnine is, in a certain sense, acumulative poison, but it would be quite impossible for it toresult in sudden death in this way. There would have to be along period of chronic symptoms which would at once haveattracted my attention. The whole thing is absurd.""And the second suggestion? That Mrs. Inglethorp may haveinadvertently taken an overdose?""Three, or even four doses, would not have resulted in death.Mrs. Inglethorp always had an extra large amount of medicine madeup at a time, as she dealt with Coot's, the Cash Chemists inTadminster. She would have had to take very nearly the wholebottle to account for the amount of strychnine found at thepost-mortem.""Then you consider that we may dismiss the tonic as not being inany way instrumental in causing her death?""Certainly. The supposition is ridiculous."The same juryman who had interrupted before here suggested thatthe chemist who made up the medicine might have committed anerror."That, of course, is always possible," replied the doctor.But Dorcas, who was the next witness called, dispelled even thatpossibility. The medicine had not been newly made up. On thecontrary, Mrs. Inglethorp had taken the last dose on the day ofher death.So the question of the tonic was finally abandoned, and theCoroner proceeded with his task. Having elicited from Dorcas howshe had been awakened by the violent ringing of her mistress'sbell, and had subsequently roused the household, he passed to thesubject of the quarrel on the preceding afternoon.Dorcas's evidence on this point was substantially what Poirot andI had already heard, so I will not repeat it here.The next witness was Mary Cavendish. She stood very upright, andspoke in a low, clear, and perfectly composed voice. In answerto the Coroner's question, she told how, her alarm clock havingaroused her at 4.30 as usual, she was dressing, when she wasstartled by the sound of something heavy falling."That would have been the table by the bed?" commented theCoroner."I opened my door," continued Mary, "and listened. In a fewminutes a bell rang violently. Dorcas came running down and wokemy husband, and we all went to my mother-in-law's room, but itwas locked----"The Coroner interrupted her."I really do not think we need trouble you further on that point.We know all that can be known of the subsequent happenings. ButI should be obliged if you would tell us all you overheard of thequarrel the day before.""I?"There was a faint insolence in her voice. She raised her handand adjusted the ruffle of lace at her neck, turning her head alittle as she did so. And quite spontaneously the thoughtflashed across my mind: "She is gaining time!""Yes. I understand," continued the Coroner deliberately, "thatyou were sitting reading on the bench just outside the longwindow of the boudoir. That is so, is it not?"This was news to me and glancing sideways at Poirot, I fanciedthat it was news to him as well.There was the faintest pause, the mere hesitation of a moment,before she answered:"Yes, that is so.""And the boudoir window was open, was it not?"Surely her face grew a little paler as she answered:"Yes.""Then you cannot have failed to hear the voices inside,especially as they were raised in anger. In fact, they would bemore audible where you were than in the hall.""Possibly.""Will you repeat to us what you overheard of the quarrel?""I really do not remember hearing anything.""Do you mean to say you did not hear voices?""Oh, yes, I heard the voices, but I did not hear what they said."A faint spot of colour came into her cheek. "I am not in thehabit of listening to private conversations."The Coroner persisted."And you remember nothing at all? Nothing, Mrs. Cavendish? Notone stray word or phrase to make you realize that it was aprivate conversation?"She paused, and seemed to reflect, still outwardly as calm asever."Yes; I remember. Mrs. Inglethorp said something--I do notremember exactly what--about causing scandal between husband andwife.""Ah!" the Coroner leant back satisfied. "That corresponds withwhat Dorcas heard. But excuse me, Mrs. Cavendish, although yourealized it was a private conversation, you did not move away?You remained where you were?"I caught the momentary gleam of her tawny eyes as she raisedthem. I felt certain that at that moment she would willinglyhave torn the little lawyer, with his insinuations, into pieces,but she replied quietly enough:"No. I was very comfortable where I was. I fixed my mind on mybook.""And that is all you can tell us?""That is all."The examination was over, though I doubted if the Coroner wasentirely satisfied with it. I think he suspected that MaryCavendish could tell more if she chose.Amy Hill, shop assistant, was next called, and deposed to havingsold a will form on the afternoon of the 17th to William Earl,under-gardener at Styles.William Earl and Manning succeeded her, and testified towitnessing a document. Manning fixed the time at about 4.30,William was of the opinion that it was rather earlier.Cynthia Murdoch came next. She had, however, little to tell.She had known nothing of the tragedy, until awakened by Mrs.Cavendish."You did not hear the table fall?""No. I was fast asleep."The Coroner smiled."A good conscience makes a sound sleeper," he observed. "Thankyou, Miss Murdoch, that is all.""Miss Howard."Miss Howard produced the letter written to her by Mrs. Inglethorpon the evening of the 17th. Poirot and I had, of course alreadyseen it. It added nothing to our knowledge of the tragedy. Thefollowing is a facsimile:STYLES COURTESSEX hand written note: July 17th My dear EvelynCan we not bury the hachet? I have found it hard to forgive thethings you said against my dear husband but I am an old woman &very fond of youYours affectionately,Emily InglethorpeIt was handed to the jury who scrutinized it attentively."I fear it does not help us much," said the Coroner, with a sigh."There is no mention of any of the events of that afternoon.""Plain as a pikestaff to me," said Miss Howard shortly. "Itshows clearly enough that my poor old friend had just found outshe'd been made a fool of!""It says nothing of the kind in the letter," the Coroner pointedout."No, because Emily never could bear to put herself in the wrong.But I know her. She wanted me back. But she wasn't going to ownthat I'd been right. She went round about. Most people do.Don't believe in it myself."Mr. Wells smiled faintly. So, I noticed, did several of thejury. Miss Howard was obviously quite a public character."Anyway, all this tomfoolery is a great waste of time," continuedthe lady, glancing up and down the jury disparagingly."Talk--talk--talk! When all the time we know perfectly well----"The Coroner interrupted her in an agony of apprehension:"Thank you, Miss Howard, that is all."I fancy he breathed a sigh of relief when she complied.Then came the sensation of the day. The Coroner called AlbertMace, chemist's assistant.It was our agitated young man of the pale face. In answer to theCoroner's questions, he explained that he was a qualifiedpharmacist, but had only recently come to this particular shop,as the assistant formerly there had just been called up for thearmy.These preliminaries completed, the Coroner proceeded to business."Mr. Mace, have you lately sold strychnine to any unauthorizedperson?""Yes, sir.""When was this?""Last Monday night.""Monday? Not Tuesday?""No, sir, Monday, the 16th.""Will you tell us to whom you sold it?"You could have heard a pin drop."Yes, sir. It was to Mr. Inglethorp."Every eye turned simultaneously to where Alfred Inglethorp wassitting, impassive and wooden. He started slightly, as thedamning words fell from the young man's lips. I half thought hewas going to rise from his chair, but he remained seated,although a remarkably well acted expression of astonishment roseon his face."You are sure of what you say?" asked the Coroner sternly."Quite sure, sir.""Are you in the habit of selling strychnine indiscriminately overthe counter?"The wretched young man wilted visibly under the Coroner's frown."Oh, no, sir--of course not. But, seeing it was Mr. Inglethorpof the Hall, I thought there was no harm in it. He said it wasto poison a dog."Inwardly I sympathized. It was only human nature to endeavour toplease "The Hall"--especially when it might result in custombeing transferred from Coot's to the local establishment."Is it not customary for anyone purchasing poison to sign abook?""Yes, sir, Mr. Inglethorp did so.""Have you got the book here?""Yes, sir."It was produced; and, with a few words of stern censure, theCoroner dismissed the wretched Mr. Mace.Then, amidst a breathless silence, Alfred Inglethorp was called.Did he realize, I wondered, how closely the halter was beingdrawn around his neck?The Coroner went straight to the point."On Monday evening last, did you purchase strychnine for thepurpose of poisoning a dog?"Inglethorp replied with perfect calmness:"No, I did not. There is no dog at Styles, except an outdoorsheepdog, which is in perfect health.""You deny absolutely having purchased strychnine from Albert Maceon Monday last?""I do.""Do you also deny this?"The Coroner handed him the register in which his signature wasinscribed."Certainly I do. The hand-writing is quite different from mine.I will show you."He took an old envelope out of his pocket, and wrote his name onit, handing it to the jury. It was certainly utterly dissimilar."Then what is your explanation of Mr. Mace's statement?"Alfred Inglethorp replied imperturbably:"Mr. Mace must have been mistaken."The Coroner hesitated for a moment, and then said:"Mr. Inglethorp, as a mere matter of form, would you mind tellingus where you were on the evening of Monday, July 16th?""Really--I can't remember.""That is absurd, Mr. Inglethorp," said the Coroner sharply."Think again."Inglethorp shook his head."I cannot tell you. I have an idea that I was out walking.""In what direction?""I really can't remember."The Coroner's face grew graver."Were you in company with anyone?""No.""Did you meet anyone on your walk?""No.""That is a pity," said the Coroner dryly. "I am to take it thenthat you decline to say where you were at the time that Mr. Macepositively recognized you as entering the shop to purchasestrychnine?""If you like to take it that way, yes.""Be careful, Mr. Inglethorp."Poirot was fidgeting nervously."Sacre!" he murmured. "Does this imbecile of a man want to bearrested?"Inglethorp was indeed creating a bad impression. His futiledenials would not have convinced a child. The Coroner, however,passed briskly to the next point, and Poirot drew a deep breathof relief."You had a discussion with your wife on Tuesday afternoon?""Pardon me," interrupted Alfred Inglethorp, "you have beenmisinformed. I had no quarrel with my dear wife. The wholestory is absolutely untrue. I was absent from the house theentire afternoon.""Have you anyone who can testify to that?""You have my word," said Inglethorp haughtily.The Coroner did not trouble to reply."There are two witnesses who will swear to having heard yourdisagreement with Mrs. Inglethorp.""Those witnesses were mistaken."I was puzzled. The man spoke with such quiet assurance that Iwas staggered. I looked at Poirot. There was an expression ofexultation on his face which I could not understand. Was he atlast convinced of Alfred Inglethorp's guilt?"Mr. Inglethorp," said the Coroner, "you have heard your wife'sdying words repeated here. Can you explain them in any way?""Certainly I can.""You can?""It seems to me very simple. The room was dimly lighted. Dr.Bauerstein is much of my height and build, and, like me, wears abeard. In the dim light, and suffering as she was, my poor wifemistook him for me.""Ah!" murmured Poirot to himself. "But it is an idea, that!""You think it is true?" I whispered."I do not say that. But it is truly an ingenious supposition.""You read my wife's last words as an accusation"--Inglethorp wascontinuing--"they were, on the contrary, an appeal to me."The Coroner reflected a moment, then he said:"I believe, Mr. Inglethorp, that you yourself poured out thecoffee, and took it to your wife that evening?""I poured it out, yes. But I did not take it to her. I meant todo so, but I was told that a friend was at the hall door, so Ilaid down the coffee on the hall table. When I came through thehall again a few minutes later, it was gone."This statement might, or might not, be true, but it did not seemto me to improve matters much for Inglethorp. In any case, hehad had ample time to introduce the poison.At that point, Poirot nudged me gently, indicating two men whowere sitting together near the door. One was a little, sharp,dark, ferret-faced man, the other was tall and fair.I questioned Poirot mutely. He put his lips to my ear."Do you know who that little man is?"I shook my head."That is Detective Inspector James Japp of Scotland Yard-- JimmyJapp. The other man is from Scotland Yard too. Things aremoving quickly, my friend."I stared at the two men intently. There was certainly nothing ofthe policeman about them. I should never have suspected them ofbeing official personages.I was still staring, when I was startled and recalled by theverdict being given:"Wilful Murder against some person or persons unknown."