“Yes, generally,” she said reluctantly. “Oh—this is Mr Rumbold, Superintendent, a very great friend of ours. He has been most kind —”
“You know, I don't think the Superintendent wants to hear about my so-called kindness, dear Mrs Matthews,” said Rumbold. “Stella, can you perhaps help over this question of time?”
She said hesitatingly: “You mean—when Mummy put Aunt Harriet to bed?”
“Yes. Your mother is feeling too upset to remember very clearly, but naturally the Superintendent must know when it was,” he said reassuringly. “If you know, tell him.”
She looked at him in rather a frightened way, but he repeated calmly: “Do you know, Stella?”
“Well, yes. I know it was just ten when I went upstairs, because the grandfather clock in the hall was striking. Mummy was just coming out of Aunt Harriet's room with a —” She saw her mother's eyes fixed on her, and broke off.
“With what, Miss Matthews?”
Stella gave a little laugh. “Well, I was going to say, with her dressing-gown on, but I suppose that's irrelevant.” She found that the Superintendent was steadily regarding her, and with a slightly heightened colour she added: “And I asked if Aunt Harriet was worse, and my mother said she didn't think it was anything much, but that she'd put her to bed, and—and given her some stuff to take. Then I went down to the kitchen, and afterwards out to the shops.”
“Thank you.” Hannasyde turned towards Mrs Matthews again. “It seems then that you left your sister-in-law at ten o'clock. Did you go out after that?”
“Out?” repeated Mrs Matthews. “No, I had many little duties to perform about the house.”
“And between ten and twelve you did not go into Miss Matthews' room?”
“No. I wrote letters, and then I had to do the flowers.”
“You did not think it advisable to look in on your sister-in-law, if only to see whether she wanted anything?”
Mrs Matthews replied with dignity: “No, Superintendent, I did not. When I left her my sister-in-law was drowsy. I thought it far better that she should have a good sleep.”
He accepted this without comment, and asked: “At twelve o'clock, when you did go into her room, did there not seem to you to be anything amiss?”
“I thought she was still asleep. I opened the door very quietly, and just peeped in. She was lying on her side—she seemed asleep. The curtains were drawn, so naturally I could not see very clearly. I went away again, and it was not until lunch-time when I sent my daughter to see how she was feeling, that I had the least suspicion of what had happened. Even then I could not believe that she was dead. My son rang up the doctor immediately. It was he who broke the terrible news to us.”
“Thank you,” said Hannasyde. “Mr Matthews, were you at home this morning?”
“Yes,” replied Guy.
“All the morning?”
“Yes, I was working in this very room. Anything else I can tell you?”
“Nothing, thank you. I should like, however, to interview the housemaid who took up Miss Matthews' early tea.”
“All right, I'll ring for her,” said Guy, moving towards the bell.
“Perhaps,” said Hannasyde, “it would be possible for me to see her in some other room?”
Guy flushed. “Oh, certainly! See her anywhere you like!”
“I should very much prefer you to wait until you have proof that my sister-in-law was poisoned,” said Mrs Matthews stiffly. “All this is very upsetting to the servants, and we are already short-handed. Moreover, Mary cannot possibly tell you any more than we have, for she doesn't know anything.”
“In that case I shan't keep her long from her work, Mrs Matthews.”
Beecher came into the room. Guy said: “Yes, I rang, Beecher. Take the Superintendent to the morning-room, will you, and send Mary to him there.”
“Very good, sir.” Beecher held the door open for Hannasyde, and ushered him out into the hall, and across it to the morning-room.
In a few minutes Mary appeared, round-eyed and scared, and stood just inside the door, with her hands behind her back. “Yes, sir?” she said in a frightened whisper.
Hannasyde bade her good-afternoon, and asked her what her name was. She told him, and he said: “I shan't keep you long. I just want you to tell me who made Miss Matthews' early tea this morning, and who took it up to her.”
“Mrs Beecher, she made the tea, sir. It was me carried the trays up—me and the kitchen maid.”
“Which of you took Miss Matthews' tray?”
“I don't rightly know, sir. The kitchen maid, she only took two trays up the stairs and put them down on the table on the landing. I can't exactly remember which they was.”
“Did the kitchen maid go downstairs again once she had put the trays down on the table?”
“Oh yes, sir! She only carried them up to oblige. She doesn't go into any of the bedrooms.”
“No, I see. And whose tray did you take in first?”
Mary blushed, and stood on one leg. “Well, Mr Guy's, sir. He does like his tea so hot!”
“Were you long in his room?”
“Oh no, sir!” said Mary, shocked. “I only put the tray down by the bed, and drew the curtains back, and things like that.”
“Things like what?”
“Well, straightening the room, sir, and putting his shaving-water on the washstand, and waking him up.”
“So you might have been there about five minutes or so?”
“Yes, I expect it would be about that,” Mary agreed. “When you came out again was anyone on the landing?”
“Oh no!” Mary said. “Whatever would anyone be out there for at that hour?”
“I just wanted to know. Whose was the next tray you took in?”
“I took Mrs Matthews' hot water in, sir. She doesn't have tea.”
“Did you have to wake her, too?”
Mary shook her head. “Mrs Matthews is always awake in the mornings. She doesn't never sleep after six, so she told me.”
“Doesn't she? Whose tray was the next?”
“Miss Harriet's, sir. She was awake, too.”
“Did she seem quite well then, or did she complain of feeling ill?”
“No, sir, she didn't say nothing about feeling ill. She was just like she always was.”
“Did you go into her room again at any time during the morning?”
“No, I never saw her again,” replied Mary, ready tears springing to her eyes. “Mrs Matthews gave orders no one wasn't to disturb her.”
Hannasyde asked her no more questions, but sent her away to find the butler, in whose charge Dr Fielding had left the key of Miss Matthews' bedroom. The Sergeant, who had been pursuing investigations in the servants' hall, joined him, and escorted by Beecher they went upstairs together.
Miss Matthews' room, at first glance, told them nothing. The Superintendent got rid of Beecher, and shut the door. “If she was poisoned the stuff may have been put into her early-morning tea,” he said. “Apparently the tray was left on that table outside for a few minutes while the housemaid took young Matthews' tray to his room. Or it may have been given in the medicine Mrs Matthews gave the unfortunate woman. That presupposes that she felt unwell this morning from purely natural causes, of course.”
The Sergeant pursed his mouth. “It's what I'd call an audacious sort of a crime, Chief. If it's more of this nicotine it looks like the same person at work. Well, I have known people get away with one clever murder, and think themselves so smart they can get away with another, but to go and commit the second murder before the police have finished with the first strikes me as being fair madness! What's more, if this turns out to be murder there's only Mrs Matthews could have done it, as far as I can see. How's she taking it?”
“She's upset. But the woman's such a mass of insincerity it's very hard to know what to make of her.”
“That's where psychology comes in,” said the Sergeant.
“I'm looking for motive, thanks. She had one for murdering Gregory Matthews, but to poison a woman because you want her share of the house seems too thin.”