Latter End Page 7

  Poly Pell-17-kitchenmaid.

  Mrs. Huggins-occasional daily help.

  Not a very long list, and not so very many particulars, but it had taken some time to get them.

  Miss Silver sat up straight with the pencil in her hand and gave a slight preliminary cough.

  “And now, Mr. Latter, will you tell me if any of these people have a grudge against your wife?”

  “How could they have?”

  “That is for you to say. You mention, for instance, that Miss Vane, who is now a frequent visitor, had not been so for some time past-that strained relations had in fact existed. With whom had the quarrel been? With your wife?”

  “Well, there wasn’t exactly a quarrel. I must have given you a wrong impression. I hope you didn’t write it down. It was just they didn’t hit it off-at least Julia didn’t. Lois was an angel about it-never bore any malice-always said Julia would come round. And she has.”

  “There was no quarrel?”

  He shook his head.

  “Nothing to quarrel about. I’m very fond of Julia-always have been-but she flies off the handle. Very warmhearted girl, but impulsive-doesn’t stop to think. Ellie’s quite different-gentle, you know. Bad luck for her, her husband losing a leg like that…” He wandered off into a life history of Ronnie Street, from which Miss Silver presently recalled him.

  “Quite so, Mr. Latter. I hope that he will soon be sufficiently restored to take up the appointment of which you speak. Now about Miss Mercer. You say she is leaving your household after twenty-five years in it. Is that in consequence of any breach with your wife?”

  Jimmy showed considerable distress.

  “Oh, no-of course not. She wants to go.”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “That is not an answer to my question, Mr. Latter. Why does she want to go?”

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “I don’t know. And that’s what’s worrying me-it’s not only the time she’s been with us, but all the time before. You see, my mother died when I was born, and my father couldn’t bear it. He went off abroad-travelling about, you know. Well, Mrs. Mercer took me on. She’d just lost a child. Minnie was born three years later. My father didn’t marry again till I was fifteen. I was with the Mercers till I went to school, and for the holidays after that. Minnie is all the same as my sister.”

  Miss Silver’s small nondescript eyes regarded him intelligently.

  “Sisters and wives do not always agree, Mr. Latter.”

  Jimmy rubbed his nose.

  “No-no. Can’t think why women don’t hit it off. Not that Lois-besides you couldn’t quarrel with Minnie-nobody could. She’s one of those quiet, gentle girls-always doing things for other people-never thinking about herself. But Lois says she gets on her nerves.” He rubbed in a most scarifying manner. “Why should she?”

  “I do not know, Mr. Latter. It is quite possible that Mrs. Latter does not know either. But you have said quite enough to account for Miss Mercer’s decision to go elsewhere.”

  He looked wretched.

  “I asked her point-blank why she wanted to go, and I couldn’t get to the bottom of it. You’ve only to look at her to see how unhappy she is. Why, I begged her to stay, and she only turned as white as a sheet and went out of the room.”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “Well, Mr. Latter, there are two members of your household who are not on very good terms with your wife. What about Mrs. Street?”

  It took Jimmy Latter about a quarter of an hour to explain how angelic Lois had been to Ellie-“looked after her like a mother. And of course, as she says, it would never do to have that poor chap Ronnie Street in the house-Ellie would only wear herself out.”

  Miss Silver mentally added Ellie Street to the list of those who had no great reason to love Mrs. Latter. Her enquiry as to the attitude of Mr. Antony Latter also provided some grounds for speculation.

  “Oh, he was quite a pal of Lois’-knew her before I did. In fact I don’t mind saying I got the wind up about him. Of course he’s a bit younger, but she doesn’t look her age-not anything like. And there they were, always about together- well, I give you my word, I didn’t think I’d got a chance. Antony ’s one of those clever chaps. I never thought she’d look at me, but she did-I can’t think why. Anyhow he’s been off abroad for the last two years-just got demobilized. I told you about that.”

  Miss Silver had one more question.

  “Your cook, Mrs. Maniple-has she any reason to dislike your wife?”

  “Oh, no.”

  “She is not under notice to leave?”

  Jimmy looked quite horrified.

  “Of course not! Why, she saw me christened.”

  Miss Silver wrote a few more lines in the red copybook. Then, closing it, she looked up and said,

  “I would like you to tell me a little more about your wife and these attacks she has been having. The two you have described occurred about a fortnight ago. I imagine that you would not have come to see me unless something had occurred since then. Now that I am clear as to your household, I should like you to tell me of these more recent happenings. When, for instance, did Mrs. Latter begin to think that someone was trying to poison her?”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “When was the next incident, Mr. Latter?”

  Jimmy rubbed his nose.

  “Well, I don’t know. I’ve been away-had to go down to Devonshire to settle up the affairs of an old cousin of mine. Lois didn’t say anything when I came back, but now she says she didn’t feel at all well once or twice whilst I was away. To tell you the honest truth, I didn’t take a great deal of notice- I mean, I thought something had just happened to upset her. People do get upset-don’t they? That first time, for instance, we had had a very good sort of dish with mushrooms in it- well, you know there might have been a bad one. And the second time there was the fruit salad-all dodged up with kümmel-I mean, it might have upset her. And when I came home, there she was, looking the picture of health, so I thought perhaps she’d just got it a bit on her mind because of what this Memnon chap had said to her.”

  “Very natural, Mr. Latter.”

  “But the day after I came back she was very bad again, after drinking her coffee.”

  “The Turkish coffee which was made specially for her?”

  “Yes. She was sipping it, and we were talking, when all at once she said, ‘There’s something wrong with this coffee,’ and she put down the cup and ran out of the room. I went after her, and she was very sick, poor girl. When I could leave her I went back to get hold of the coffee cup. It had been taken through into the pantry, but the dregs were there. I took it over to Crampton in the morning to a big chemist’s shop. There was plenty left at the bottom of the cup, and they got it analysed.”

  “Well, Mr. Latter?”

  He looked at her with puzzled eyes.

  “They didn’t find anything.”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “Is your wife imaginative-neurotic?”

  “I shouldn’t have said so.”

  “There are two possibilities in this case. One is that Mrs. Latter has induced these attacks by becoming obsessed with the idea of poison. The other-” She paused for a moment. “Mr. Latter, has it occurred to you that the dregs in the coffee cup might have been tampered with?”

  He appeared to be very much startled.

  “How do you mean-tampered with?”

  She replied with gravity.

  “If a noxious drug had been introduced into the coffee, the dregs might have been thrown away, the cup washed out, and a little more coffee poured in.”

  He stared at her.

  “That’s what Lois said when I came back and told her about the chemist. She said the cup might have been washed, and anyone might have done it.”

  “Who were present, Mr. Latter?”

  “ Antony, Julia, Ellie, Minnie, Lois, and myself.”

  “And Mrs. Maniple and the girl Polly in the kitchen?”

>   “Yes.”

  “Who took the cup out to the pantry?”

  “Minnie did.”

  “Could any of the others have had the opportunity of washing it?”

  He looked wretchedly unhappy.

  “Minnie didn’t wash it-I asked her. I asked them all, because Lois said that one of them must have washed it. But they all said they hadn’t.”

  “What did your wife say to that?”

  “She said that any of them could have done it.”

  “Was that the case?”

  “I suppose it was. Ellie went out to speak to Mrs. Maniple, and Julia went to look for her. Antony went with her.”

  “And were they together all the time?”

  He rubbed his nose.

  “Noy they weren’t. There was a lot of coming and going. As a matter of fact it’s all very worrying and uncomfortable, because Lois has got it into her head that someone is trying to poison her, and it means she thinks it’s someone in the family.”

  Miss Silver closed her eyes for a moment. She had seen photographs in the picture papers of the beautiful Mrs. Latter.

  She was trying to recall those photographs. She looked at Jimmy and said,

  “I have seen pictures of your wife. I should like to refresh my memory. Have you by any chance a photograph?”

  He took a folding case out of his breast pocket and handed it to her with a look of anxious pride. The portrait inside was a miniature on ivory. He said as he watched her scrutiny,

  “It’s exactly like.”

  Miss Silver looked at the miniature for quite a long time. During that time the idea of Lois Latter as the subject of an hysterical fancy faded from her mind. This was the portrait of a resolute and strong-willed woman. The line of cheek and jaw, the moulding of the chin, the curve of the lips were eloquent of this. The beautiful red mouth was hard. The eyes, for all their beauty and their brightness, were hard. This was a woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.

  The case was handed back across the table with the remark that it appeared to be a speaking likeness. Then, whilst Jimmy was agreeing, she fixed her serious gaze upon him and said,

  “Would you like me to tell you what I really think, Mr. Latter?”

  “Yes, yes-of course I would.”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “Before I do so, will you tell me if there were any ill effects from this last attack? For instance, did your wife rejoin the party in the drawing-room as she did on a previous occasion?”

  “Yes, she did,” said Jimmy. “She seemed to be quite all right again, I’m thankful to say.”

  Miss Silver spoke with authority.

  “Then I do not believe that an attempt has been made to poison her. I think that someone has been playing a trick. A very wrong and spiteful trick of course, but not, I think, intended to have any serious consequences. The symptoms you have described could be produced by a harmless emetic such as ipecacuanha, a drug which is to be found in most households, and whose sweetish, not unpleasant taste would be readily disguised by fruit salad or coffee-especially if, as in this instance, sugar and a liqueur were added.”

  She saw his face revert so suddenly to its natural boyishness as to suggest a ludicrous comparison with one of those rubber masks which can be drawn out to look lugubrious or compressed into jollity. Miss Silver dismissed this irrelevancy from her thought, and answered his smile with one of her own.

  He said, “That’s marvellous-” and then broke off. “But there isn’t anyone who would play a trick like that. I mean, who would?”

  Miss Silver coughed.

  “Do you really wish me to answer that question, Mr. Latter?”

  He stared.

  “Why, yes-of course.”

  “Then I should have to come down and stay in the house.”

  “Would you?”

  She inclined her head.

  “If you wish me to take up the case professionally.”

  He pushed back his chair, appeared to be about to get up, but changed his mind.

  “Well, I don’t know-” he said in a doubtful tone. “No- I don’t know at all. I can’t believe that anyone in the family would do a thing like that-I can’t really. I don’t feel I can bring a detective in on them-I mean, it would upset the whole bag of tricks.”

  “It would not be necessary for them to know that I was a detective.”

  The colour came up into his face.

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he said quickly. He got to his feet. “It’s been very good of you to let me come and see you. It’s relieved my mind no end-it really has.” His voice became tinged with embarrassment. “Will you tell me what I- I mean I owe you something-besides being awfully grateful-don’t I?”

  Her smile had the effect of making him feel about ten years old.

  “Not unless you decide to employ me, Mr. Latter.” She got up and put out her hand. “May I give you a word of advice?”

  “I should be very grateful.”

  He took her hand for a moment, and found it cool and small in his. She withdrew it and said,

  “Do not try to combine in one house, people who are not really congenial to one another. Until your marriage, Miss Mercer was to all intents and purposes the mistress of the house. She is now in a different, and possibly difficult, position. I think her decision to go elsewhere is wise. Pray do not attempt to dissuade her. In the same way with your two young stepsisters, Mrs. Street and Miss Vane-until you married, Latter End was their home. It is unwise for them to continue to look upon it in that light. Encourage them in every way you can, even if possible financially, to make homes and centres of interest for themselves-” She paused, and added, “You might, I think, consider pensioning your old housekeeper, if it could be kindly done. So old a servant does not always fit in with a new mistress, and after more than fifty years of service she has earned a rest. There is one thing more. I should strongly advise Mrs. Latter to avoid eating or drinking anything which is separately or especially prepared for herself. Goodbye, Mr. Latter.”

  CHAPTER 12

  It was a couple of days later that Antony Latter rang Julia up at her flat.

  “Can I come round and see you?”

  “If you don’t mind an awful mess. I’ve brought a lot of my things up from Latter End-books chiefly-and I’m unpacking them. They’re all over the floor.” When he walked in twenty minutes later he discovered this to be an understatement. They were not only all over the floor, but stacked on every chair and piled in sliding strata upon the table and the couch which was Julia’s bed. Julia herself in the red smock, which appeared to have been washed since he saw it last but which was rapidly acquiring a good deal of dust, looked up at him with a frown.

  “It’s grim-isn’t it? I don’t know what happens to books when you get them out-there always seem to be about ten times as many of them. I’ve got a man coming to put up some shelves all round the window there, and I don’t know how I’m going to eat or sleep until he’s done it. I thought perhaps a big pile on each side of the door.”

  “All right, we’ll each do one. No, I’ll bring you the books, and you can build the stacks. Your clothes won’t hurt, and mine will.”

  She said, “Your precious trouser knees! All right.”

  They began to build. After a minute or two he said,

  “Well-how’s everything?” To which Julia replied,

  “Hellish!”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “In what particular way?”

  She thumped a heavy book down on to the stack and said,

  “In every way you can possibly think of! Lois swears someone’s trying to poison her. Jimmy has been practically tearing his hair out, Ellie’s worrying herself into an illness, and Minnie looks as if she was having one. I don’t know how I’ve stuck it out. I wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for Ellie, but I can’t leave her down there alone. I had to come up on business, so I brought these wretched books, but I shall go down again tomorrow. I suppose you c
ouldn’t come too?”

  “I could, darling-but you make it sound almost too alluring.”

  He found her eyes fixed on him with an appeal which it was difficult to resist.

  “ Antony, do come! It’s quite awful-it really is. I don’t think I can tackle it alone, and I think it ought to be tackled. I’ve got an idea-”

  “What sort of idea?”

  She hesitated.

  “This poison business-it’s beastly, and it might be serious. Lois has had about five of these attacks. They’re not serious in themselves-she’s just sick, and then she’s all right again. Well, either she’s playing a trick on us, or somebody’s playing a trick on her. She won’t see a doctor, and she swears someone’s trying to poison her.” She gave a short scornful laugh. “Poisoners aren’t as inefficient as all that. No-she’s doing it herself, or someone else is doing it to frighten-or punish her.”

  Antony shook his head.

  “She isn’t doing it herself-you can wash that right out.”

  “Yes, I think so. Too unbecoming. Well then, it’s somebody else. Who?”

  “I don’t know. You said you had an idea. Are you going to tell me what it is?”

  “Yes-I must. I’ve got a horrible feeling that it might be Manny.”

  He looked first startled, and then relieved. “Manny?”

  “Who else is there? Ellie-Minnie-me-you-Jimmy? You see? But Manny-well, I’m not so sure. She was frightfully angry about Mrs. Marsh going to the institute. She said-and it’s perfectly true-that Gladys Marsh wouldn’t have dared if Lois hadn’t backed her up. She’s seething about Hodson’s cottage, too, and about Lois not wanting to have Ronnie at Latter End, and-oh, heaps of things. Poor Minnie is the last straw. Manny knows she’s going, and of course she knows that Lois is at the bottom of it. And she’s got a nice bottle of ipecac sitting in the corner of the kitchen cupboard, with every opportunity of putting a teaspoonful in here and there when Lois has anything that the rest of us don’t.”

  “Darling, what a lurid imagination you’ve got!”

  She shook her head.

  “I wish I had. I mean, I wish I didn’t think it was true, but-well, I’m practically sure. And-it isn’t safe, Antony.”