Miss Matthews who had seldom (except for Edward Rumbold) met with so encouraging an audience, answered with the utmost readiness: “Some place in Braziclass="underline" I forget the name of it. So unsuitable! Guy doesn't like rubber at all, and besides, he's doing so well at his work, which is really most original—I mean the way he does it—and you can't expect a new business to make money right away, can you?”
“No,” agreed Hannasyde. “What is his business, if I may ask?”
“Well, they call it Interior Decoration, and though I myself shouldn't want a gilded ceiling and black panels I can quite understand that tastes differ. But Gregory never did have any patience with Art, and besides, I don't think he liked Guy, and I must say that Guy was often needlessly rude to his uncle, though at the same time Gregory gave him plenty of excuse. And then about this South American business! Only there was a good deal of excuse for Guy over that too, because the poor boy felt quite desperate—he told me so himself—and no wonder! Altogether things have been very difficult, and though Gregory's death hasn't done as much good as one hoped it would, at least it has put a stop to all the incessant quarrelling and unpleasantness in the house.”
“That sounds as though others beside Mr Guy Matthews have been at variance with your brother,” said Hannasyde, smiling.
“I should call it being at daggers drawn!” said Miss Matthews candidly. “Most unfortunately my niece, Stella, wants to marry Dr Fielding, and I need hardly say that Gregory had taken one of his unreasonable dislikes to the poor man. As though anyone could be blamed for what his father did! Not that I should mention any of that, and I'm not going to, for I was thoroughly ashamed of my brother's behaviour, and what is more I told him that to my mind it was nothing less than blackmail! But it's something I prefer not to talk about, so I beg you won't ask me any questions about it.”
“I quite understand,” said Hannasyde. “It must have been very trying both for you and for Mrs Matthews. I hope for your niece's sake she does not also oppose the marriage?”
Miss Matthews gave a sniff. “I'm sure I don't know what her views are, for I never believe a word she says. Besides, if she cares for anyone but herself it's for Guy, not for Stella. As a matter of fact, I was agreeably surprised in her over the South American business at first. I didn't know she had so much feeling and I certainly didn't expect her to quarrel with my brother about it. At one time I thought it was really going to come to a breach between her and Gregory, but the instant she realised she couldn't force Gregory an inch she turned completely round, and butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth. My sister Gertrude was right—not that I've any desire to quote Gertrude, because I consider she's behaved most unkindly to me, calling me a bad housekeeper, and I don't know what beside! It just serves her right that Gregory only left her a picture of himself and a small legacy, and for my part I call it a judgment, and I only hope that it will teach her a lesson, and that in future she won't go about demanding post-mortems right and left!”
The Inspector stiffened suddenly, and shot a look at Hannasyde. Hannasyde very slightly frowned, but he was watching Miss Matthews closely as he asked: “Was it your sister who put the matter into the Coroner's hands, Miss Matthews?”
“Well, actually it was Dr Fielding who rang up the Coroner,” said Miss Matthews. “But he never would have done so if it hadn't been for Gertrude. He didn't suspect poison at all; in fact, he was very much against a post-mortem, but that's Gertrude all over! She always wants to interfere. She made an absurd fuss, and of course the doctor had to give way about it, and I should like to know what good it's done? I mean, if Gregory's dead he's dead, and we can only be thank—well, perhaps not quite that, but you know what I mean.”
“Perfectly,” said the Superintendent. “I wonder if you would be so kind as to find out if Dr Fielding is still in the house? If he is, I should like to have a word with him.”
Miss Matthews was a little disappointed at having her talk cut short, but she acquiesced with a fairly good grace, and went off to find the doctor. As he was still chatting to Stella in the hall this was not difficult, and the Inspector had had no time to say more than: “That's something we didn't know, anyway,” when he entered the library.
“Come in, doctor,” said Hannasyde pleasantly. “There are just one or two questions still that I should like to put to you.” He glanced down at his open notebook. “I think you stated that when you saw the body of the deceased you noticed nothing that was not in your opinion compatible with death from syncope?”
“Quite right,” said the doctor. “I doubt whether anyone could have detected poisoning from a superficial examination.”
Hannasyde nodded. “You had been treating Mr Matthews for some little time, I believe?”
“About a year.”
“You were no doubt fairly intimate with the various members of the household knew the ins and outs, in fact?”
The doctor hesitated. “I hardly know how to reply. I have been very intimate with Miss Stella Matthews for some while—we are engaged to be married, in fact—and I have attended her aunt in a professional capacity. I know very little of the other members of the family.”
“You knew that there was a good deal of friction in this house, I take it?”
“Everyone knew that,” responded the doctor dryly.
“Had you that friction in mind when you decided to put the matter into the hands of the police, doctor?”
The doctor raised his eyes, and looked steadily across at Hannasyde. “You are under a misapprehension, Superintendent,” he said. “It was Mrs Lupton, not I, who insisted on an inquiry.”
“You did not tell me that,” said Hannasyde.
“I beg your pardon,” replied the doctor politely. “I suppose it slipped my memory. In any case, it doesn't seem very material to me. Mrs Lupton herself will tell you that I was in no sense averse from having a post-mortem inquiry. Quite the reverse:: if there was any suspicion of foul play I naturally was one of the first to want a full inquiry.”
The Inspector shot a question at him. “Were you on good terms with the deceased?”
Fielding looked at him with a slightly amused expression on his face. “No, Inspector,” he said. “I was not.”
“Will you tell us why, doctor?” asked Hannasyde.
The doctor regarded his finger-nails. “Since you ask me I am bound to tell you why,” he answered. “It is not particularly pleasant for me to have to do so, but I have not the smallest desire to hinder you by keeping anything back which you may think of importance. Mr Matthews was bitterly opposed to my engagement to his niece.”
“Why?” asked the Inspector.
The doctor was silent for a moment. Then he said in a somewhat constricted tone: “Mr Matthews had discovered—how, I don't know—that my father died in a Home for Hopeless Inebriates.”
The Inspector looked very much shocked, and coughed in an embarrassed way. Hannasyde said in his unemotional voice: “It is naturally very distasteful for you to discuss such a matter, doctor, but did Mr Matthews impart this knowledge to Miss Stella Matthews?”
“It made no difference to her,” replied the doctor.
“I see. Had he any control over her actions?”
“We should have got married whatever he said, if that is what you mean.” Fielding paused, and looked from one to the other with a rueful smile. “Come, Superintendent, why beat about the bush? You want to know whether he had been threatening me with exposure, don't you? Of course he had, and of course it would have been highly unpleasant for me if he had.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Hannasyde, and turned his head as the door opened.
Mrs Matthews came into the room with Stella behind her. She looked charming in a black frock with touches of white at the throat and wrists, and if she had put her hair up in haste at least the ordered waves showed no signs of it. She checked on the threshold, and said: “Oh, have we interrupted you? I'm so sorry, but my son told me that you wanted to see me, er—Superintendent.”