Frank Abbott turned a page and went on writing. Lamb said,
“Well, that was the first time. When did you do it again?”
“Next day at lunch. There was fruit salad in separate glasses, with cream on the top. Mrs. Latter never took cream, so there was one glass without. I put the ipecac in that.”
“And after that?”
“There was once when Mr. Jimmy was away seeing after Miss Eliza Raven’s affairs down in Devonshire, and there was once more after he come back-I think it was Tuesday last week. And then on the Saturday Mr. Jimmy come down from London, and he says to send in two cups of Turkish coffee because every time Mrs. Latter has it he’s going to have it too. So then I stopped.”
“You didn’t put any more ipecac into the coffee?”
Her eyes met his.
“Do you think I’d have risked making Mr. Jimmy sick?”
“Well, I don’t suppose you would. So you didn’t use any more ipecac. How did you get hold of the morphia?”
Her gaze never wavered. It was perfectly steady and perfectly blank.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“The stuff that was in Mrs. Latter’s coffee on Wednesday night-the stuff that killed her-it was morphia. How did you get hold of that?”
“I don’t know nothing about it.”
“Mrs. Maniple-did you put anything into the coffee on Wednesday night? You needn’t answer if you don’t want to.”
There was a touch of scorn as she said,
“Why shouldn’t I want to? I didn’t put nothing in, and Miss Julia can tell you so. She stood there watching me all the time-she can say what I did. And if I’d wanted to murder Mrs. Latter a hundred times over, do you think I’d have put poison in one of those cups and let Miss Julia go through with the tray and put it down for them to help themselves- Mrs. Latter, and Mr. Jimmy that I couldn’t love more if he was my own child-and not know which of them ’ud take the poison? Do you think I’d have done that? If I’d got the length of making up my mind to poison her, do you think I’d have risked Mr. Jimmy’s life, with no saying who would take which cup? It’s not sense, and you know it!”
He said, “Maybe.” And then, “I’d like to take you through Wednesday, Mrs. Maniple. Mrs. Latter kept to her room in the morning, didn’t she? That means her breakfast went up to her. Who took it up, and what did she have?”
Mrs. Maniple leaned a little forward on her hands.
“Gladys Marsh come down for the tray and took it up. She had what she always had for breakfast, a pot of tea, a slice of dry toast, and fruit-it was an apple on Wednesday.”
“Not much of a breakfast. Well then, what happened after that? Did she come down for lunch?”
“Yes, she come down. I didn’t know what she was going to do, so I sent Polly up to ask, and she said Mrs. Latter would come down.”
“So she had the same for lunch that everyone else did. What did they have?”
“Mince and two vegetables, with a trifle to follow.”
“What about tea?”
“Mrs. Latter took her car out after lunch. She didn’t come in till getting on for seven o’clock-she wasn’t here for tea.”
“And dinner-what did you give them for dinner?”
“There was fish-baked haddock-and a sweet omelette. And hardly a bit of anything ate.”
“They were all too much upset?”
“Seems like it.”
“And then you made the coffee and Miss Vane took it in?”
“Miss Julia watched me make it.”
“Well now-one thing more. Where did you get the ipecac you put in Mrs. Latter’s coffee? Did you get it out of the medicine-cupboard in Miss Mercer’s room?”
“Not then, I didn’t.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It was a bottle she give me when I had a cough in the spring. I’d put a drop or two with some honey and vinegar and sup it. And she said to keep the bottle-it wasn’t above half full.”
“You knew she had a medicine-cupboard in her room?”
“Everyone in the house knows that.”
“It wasn’t kept locked, was it? Anyone could help themselves?”
Mrs. Maniple drew herself up.
“There wasn’t no one in the house wouldn’t do that- without it was Gladys Marsh. There’s never been no need to lock things up in this house, thank God. But it’s proper a medicine-cupboard should be locked.”
“You didn’t take anything out of that medicine-cupboard yourself?”
“I’d no call to, nor wouldn’t if I had. If I’d wanted anything I’d have asked Miss Minnie.”
“Did you ask her for anything from that cupboard?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Lamb pushed back his chair.
“All right, Mrs. Maniple. Now Sergeant Abbott will run those notes of his off on the typewriter and read them over to you, and you can sign them.”
CHAPTER 26
Miss Silver gathered up her knitting and left them to it, but almost at once the Chief Inspector followed her out of the room. When she glanced round and saw him he made what she described to herself as a grimace, walked on as far as the drawing-room door, which he opened, and beckoned her in. When he had shut it again he said confidentially,
“Well, what did you make of that?”
Miss Silver stood, her hands clasped on the new knitting-bag which her niece Ethel had sent her for her birthday in July-a capacious affair in a chintz with a pattern of honeysuckle and humming birds. It had been much admired not only by its recipient but by several of her oldest friends. A primrose lining showed here and there where the frill at the top fell over. She took a moment before she said,
“I thought Mrs. Maniple was speaking the truth.”
Lamb nodded.
“Well, so did I. I don’t see why she needed to say anything at all if she wasn’t going to tell the truth. A silly trick to get up to, and one we could run her in for. I’d do it like a shot too if I thought there was any chance she poisoned Mrs. Latter. The trouble is, I’m pretty well sure she didn’t.”
“I agree.”
“For one thing, she’d never have admitted the ipecac if she’d gone on to the morphia-not without she was going to confess the whole thing. That’s my first reason for thinking she didn’t do it. The second one’s stronger. She hit the nail right on the head when she said she’d never have risked Mr. Latter’s taking the poisoned cup. As the evidence stands, neither she who made the coffee nor Miss Julia Vane who took it in had any control over who took which cup. They weren’t either of them in the room when the coffee was shared out. So the murderer was either someone who didn’t care whether it was Mr. or Mrs. Latter who was poisoned, which makes nonsense, or else it was someone who was right here in this room and was able to see that there were no mistakes, and that the cup with the morphia in it got to the person it was meant for. And that means just one of three people- Mrs. Street, Miss Mercer-and Mr. Jimmy Latter.”
Miss Silver inclined her head.
“I agree with you as to the facts.”
He laughed in a good-humoured way.
“Well, isn’t that nice! I don’t know when you agreed with me last over a case. Live and learn, as we used to say.”
Miss Silver’s manner became a trifle remote. She coughed.
“I may agree with your facts without accepting the conclusions you draw from them.”