She rolled her eyes at him.
“What do you think?”
“I think you did.”
“Clever-aren’t you?”
He went on as if she had not spoken.
“But I’d like to hear whether you did or not. Come along- out with it!”
Her hair had fallen forward again. She tossed it back.
“Well, of course I did! That’s what I listened for, wasn’t it?”
Lamb said,
“That’s what you said. So you told Mrs. Latter there was a bottle of morphia tablets in Miss Mercer’s room-you did mention that?”
Gladys looked sulky.
“I told her what I heard and saw, same as I told you.”
“You mentioned the morphia?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Of course I did!”
Lamb was silent for a moment. Then he said,
“Sure you’ve told us all you heard and saw?”
“Isn’t it enough for you?”
“I’m asking you whether you’ve told us all you heard and saw.”
“I saw Mr. Latter with the morphia bottle in his hand, and I heard Miss Mercer tell him the stuff was dangerous. That’s something, isn’t it?”
He said, “Yes-that’s something.”
CHAPTER 30
All right,” said Lamb-“you can go. Sergeant Abbott will type out your statement and you can sign it presently. It may be important, or it may not-it depends on what other people have to say. You’ve done right in making it, but I’m warning you to keep your mouth shut, or you may find you’re in trouble. You mustn’t go about saying you can put ropes round people’s necks, you know.”
Gladys tipped her chair back and got up. As she passed Frank Abbott she contrived to brush against him. She seemed to stumble. Her hand caught at his shoulder, and a long flop of yellow hair fell down and tickled his cheek. He became disgustedly aware that it wanted washing. Something in his expression, something in the way he handed her off, brought the blood to her cheeks. She gave him a stabbing look and rounded on Lamb.
“I’m to hold my tongue, am I? So you can hush it up, I wouldn’t wonder! If it had been me, there wouldn’t have been any hushing up! But because it’s Mr. Latter of Latter End nobody’s to let on he poisoned his wife! And I’ll tell you all something-Mrs. Latter was a very good friend to me, and you can’t shut my mouth! I’ve got my rights like other people!” She reached the door, jerked it open, and turned on the threshold to deliver a final volley. “My tongue’s my own and I’ll say what I like with it-so there!”
The door banged. The Chief Inspector pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. Frank Abbott took out an immaculate handkerchief and wiped his cheek. Miss Silver continued to knit.
Lamb spoke first. He said,
“There’s times when it cramps you, being a police officer- there’s no doubt about that.”
Frank crumpled the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket.
“A few branding-irons and things, Chief? You know, somehow I don’t feel you’d really be at home in a torture chamber.”
Lamb fixed him with an awful eye, and then relaxed.
“What she wants is a good smacking,” he said. “Pity somebody didn’t do it for her when she was a kid.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“An exceedingly badly brought up young woman. As Lord Tennyson so truly says, ‘The tongue is a fire.’ But she will make a good witness, Chief Inspector.”
He slewed round in his chair.
“In what way?”
Derek’s sock revolved briskly.
“She is intelligent and, I think, accurate. Perhaps sharp would be a better word than intelligent. When you very kindly afforded me the opportunity of reading the statements which have been made, I was a good deal struck by her account of the scene in Mr. Antony Latter’s room on the Monday night. It was clear, vivid, and so accurate that neither Mr. Antony nor Mr. Jimmy Latter have challenged it in any respect. This argues a gift of aural memory which is not very common. In listening to her just now, I was confirmed in my opinion. Her evidence was, of course, tinged with spite, but it was presented very clearly, and the essential points were stressed. I should be very much surprised if her account of what took place in Miss Mercer’s room is not perfectly correct.”
Frank Abbott was looking at her with a good deal of attention. The Chief Inspector let his hand fall heavily upon his knee.
“Looks bad for your client, Miss Silver. She’ll go into the box and swear he knew where he could lay his hands on a dangerous dose of morphia. I agree she’ll make a good show there-always provided there aren’t too many women on the jury-the way she rolls her eyes won’t do her any good with them. No-it doesn’t look too good for Mr. Jimmy Latter.”
Miss Silver coughed.
“You are not, I suppose, overlooking the fact that Gladys Marsh will also have to swear that Mrs. Latter knew where she could lay her hands upon that morphia?”
Lamb frowned. He drew his fingers up into a bunch, and then suddenly spread them out again as if he were letting something go. He said in a bluff voice,
“One for you, and one for me-is that it?”
Miss Silver’s needles clicked. She said primly,
“The implication that we are taking sides is not one which I can accept, either for myself or for you, Chief Inspector.”
He said, “Well, well-” and turned to Frank Abbott. “We’d better be getting a move on. Tell Miss Mercer I want to ask her a few questions.”
Whilst they were waiting he picked up a stick of sealing-wax and began to fidget with it. When presently it snapped in his hand he turned to Miss Silver with an abrupt movement and said,
“You’re a very obstinate woman, you know.”
She allowed her eyes to meet his with a faint smile in them.
“I hope not.”
“No good hoping.”
“Obstinacy is an impediment to the free exercise of thought. It paralyses the intelligence. Conclusions based upon preconceived ideas are valueless. It is only the open mind that really thinks. I endeavour to keep my mind open.”
He turned back to the sealing-wax, picked up the two bits, frowned at his own attempt to make the broken ends fit, glanced suddenly over his shoulder, and said,
“Look here, have you got anything up your sleeve?”
“Nothing whatever, I assure you.”
“You haven’t got the murderer there by any chance?”
“No, indeed.”
He threw down the sealing-wax and turned to face her.
“If it comes to a trial, defence will be suicide. The way things are shaping, it lies between the husband and wife. They both knew about the morphia. Either he gave it to her, or she took it herself. You’ve read all the statements, and you’ve been mixing with the family in a way the police don’t get a chance of doing. You’ve talked with them, I don’t doubt, and you’ve formed an opinion of Mrs. Latter from what they’ve said. I don’t suppose it’s very different from the opinion I’ve formed myself. Without any beating about the bush- are you going to tell me you think it’s at all likely that she committed suicide?”
“Likely? No. But unlikely things do happen, Chief Inspector.”
“Are you going to tell me that in your opinion she did commit suicide?”
She said, “No-” in a very thoughtful tone. And then, “Pray do not misunderstand me. I have at this time no opinion to offer-I have an open mind. I agree with you that Mrs. Latter does not sound at all the sort of person who would be likely to commit suicide, and I agree that if she had been going to do so she would have been much more likely to take the morphia after she had gone to bed. But, as I said, unlikely things do happen, especially when people have suffered a shock or some violent mental disturbance. We really do not know much about Mrs. Latter’s state of mind. Externally she was a hard, spoiled woman with a habit of getting her own way, but we do not know what was going on underneath. It has been rather stressed that her feeling for Mr. Antony was of a wilful and casual nature, and that in her pursuit of him she was actuated by anger against her husband and a desire to punish him. Mr. Antony specially stressed this point of view. It is, of course, quite natural that he should do so. He is very much attached to his cousin, and he desires to minimize the importance of what took place on Monday night by representing it as a sudden angry whim. But it is quite possible that Mrs. Latter’s feeling for him may have been of a much more serious character. She was a woman who was not accustomed to being crossed. Suppose her to have been actuated by one of those dangerous passions which so often precipitate a tragedy-suppose her to have become aware that she has a rival in Miss Vane. This would be a very formidable combination. What happens? She is not only refused, but the refusal occurs in her husband’s presence, and in circumstances calculated to give a very violent shock to her self-respect. I remember many years ago being very much impressed by the statement that crimes of violence by women are apt to follow directly upon some sudden lowering of their self-respect.”