He put his glass down upon a verandah table, his satisfaction marred by the recollection of another remark from Cochrane. Suspicious, the judge had agreed. But had then warned of the continued absence of any positive evidence. Immediately, Flood brightened. That wouldn’t be long arriving.
As if prompted by his thoughts, there was movement behind and a maid ushered Dr Patron on to the verandah.
Flood rose to meet the analyst, hand extended.
‘Some refreshment here, or shall we get to work straight away in the study?’ the Attorney-General invited him.
‘Much as I should like to admire this superb view,’ said the chemist, ‘I do have appointments to fulfil. So I’m afraid it must be work.’
Glad of the man’s refusal to waste time, Flood led the way from the verandah to a room at the back of the house. Dr Patron followed, briefcase held protectively in front of him, as if it contained something very valuable.
‘You’ve prepared the report?’ demanded Flood eagerly, as soon as the other man was seated.
Patron reached into the briefcase and took out two bound, closely written folios, pushing one across the desk.
‘Encapsulate it for me,’ insisted the Attorney-General.
The doctor fitted half-lens glasses into place and then took from the briefcase his original copy of the report, for reference.
‘At your request,’ he began formally, ‘I boarded the Mary Celeste in the forenoon of the 30th. The express purpose was to ascertain whether any marks or stains could be discovered on or in her hulk — ’
‘And…?’ prompted Flood impatiently.
The analyst frowned, irritated at the attempt to hurry him.
‘I made a careful study and minute inspection of the vessel,’ he said. ‘On the deck in the forepart of the vessel I found some brown spots about a millimetre thick and half an inch in diameter. These I separated from the deck with a chisel. In all I found spotting sufficient to make up four exhibit envelopes. There was a further, similar spot on the top-gallant rail. I made an exhibit from that, as I did from that piece of timber provided by you…’
Flood smiled. It had been he who had first seen the marked timber and insisted upon Thomas Vecchio, the marshal, cutting it out during their first visit to the Mary Celeste.
‘Apart from these spots, I could find nothing within the vessel to suggest any bloodstaining,’ continued Dr Patron. ‘Later during my examination I received from Mr Vecchio the sword and scabbard, which he informed me had been found beneath the bunk in the captain’s cabin.’
Flood sighed, exasperated by the man’s pedantic presentation, but he suppressed the urge to hurry him.
‘Three spots I had obtained from the deck were large enough to hang upon threads before suspending them in tubes containing a quantity of distilled water. Two others were so small that I had to put them into filtering bags before commencing the maceration — ’
‘How long did it take?’ demanded Flood, anticipating the result.
Again there was a frown from the chemist at the other man’s urgency.
‘The initial maceration was continued for two and a quarter hours,’ he said. ‘At the end of that time, the distilled water was as clear and bright as it had been at the commencment of the experiment.’
The Attorney-General tilted his head to one side in one of his bird-like positions, as if it were difficult to understand what the other man was saying.
‘Notwithstanding that, I left things as they were until the following day, but even at the end of twenty-four hours there was still no discoloration of the water. I then heated the exhibits by spirit lamp, but still there was no cloudy aspect forthcoming — ’
‘Are you telling me…?’
‘I then concluded that particular experiment, believing it to be negative,’ said the doctor, refusing the interruption. ‘I then put beneath the microscope those particles I had attempted to macerate in filtering bags. I identified carbonate of iron and a vegetable substance — ’
‘I’m a layman, doctor. What is that?’
‘Rust,’ said Patron simply. ‘And wood fibres.’
‘The sword,’ said Flood urgently. ‘What about the sword?’
Patron nodded. ‘About the middle and rear part of the blade were stains of a more suspicious character,’ he resumed. ‘Although small and superficial, their aspect was reddish and in some parts brilliant. My first impression was that they were unquestionably bloodstains.’
Missing the qualification, Flood began nodding, sharp, abrupt movements.
‘I subjected them to the same maceration as I had attempted with the earlier experiments, once again submitting them to heat when no discoloration of the liquid took place. There was still no clouding under conditions of heat. Under a microscope, I identified an imperfectly crystallised substance resembling citrate of iron. Three other stains were tested with hydrochloric acid and after a perceptible effervescence a yellow stain was produced of chloride of iron — ’
The Attorney-General jerked up from the desk no longer able to contain his patience.
‘The examination was to prove bloodstaining, doctor,’ he said. ‘What about the blood?’
Dr Patron stared up, aware for the first time that the other man had not properly assimilated what he was saying.
‘There was no blood,’ he said.
The Attorney-General had started to walk around from the desk, towards a window. Now he stopped, frowning back at the analyst:
‘No blood?’
‘Not present in any of the experiments I conducted from the material I took from the vessel. And had any of that spotting from the deck or the stains to the sword been blood, it would have registered during the maceration.’
‘But it must be blood,’ insisted Flood, refusing the other man’s word.
‘Rust,’ Dr Patron corrected him.
‘What other tests did you carry out?’ persisted Flood.
‘I did not consider that any more were necessary. Blood would have registered had it been present during my examination.’
‘What about solvents?’
‘I could have attempted a reaction from solvents,’ conceded the analyst. ‘But as I have said, I did not consider it necessary.’
‘But I consider it necessary,’ said Hood, making an effort to control his temper. ‘I would like you to return to your laboratory and subject those exhibits to further analysis.’
‘That isn’t possible,’ said Patron uncomfortably.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Flood.
‘I have disposed of the samples,’ said Patron. Aware of the colour reaching the Attorney-General’s face, he hurried on: ‘It was a failed experiment, producing nothing. I did not imagine you would want them preserved… there was no point — ’
‘You destroyed them!’
Flood shouted in his outrage.
‘They had no usefulness,’ Patron tried, awkwardly.
‘They were court exhibits, Dr Patron. Made so by their being handed to you by a duly sworn official of the court. You’ve destroyed court evidence. Worse, you’d destroyed it before carrying out properly the task with which you were entrusted.’
‘I believe I fulfilled every function with which I was charged,’ said Patron defiantly. ‘There was no blood.’
Many years before, soon after he had arrived in the colony, Flood had climbed with some other young men to the very tip of the Peak and then they had all stood aloft to stare into Spain to their left and out across the Mediterranean to their right. For the first time he had learned that he suffered from vertigo: ever since, by dosing his eyes, Flood had been able to recall that stomach-emptying sensation of helplessness at the conviction that he was going to topple thousands of feet into the water below. It had taken his companions nearly five hours, at times blindfolding him, to bring him safely down. Flood closed his eyes now, without calling the incident to mind, and the impression of dropping into space was very real. He suddenly realised that there were no further samples for another analysis. Anxious to provide Dr Patron with every available particle, he had ensured that everything suspicious had been scraped from the deck during their visits. And now the confounded man had thrown it all away.