“Now that’s exactly what I thought they did not do. I’ve just read over the shorthand report of the inquest and the thing that struck me all of a heap was that the hospital gang seemed to be playing a sort of tig-in-the-dark game. Or rather tug-of-war in the dark. They wanted to pull together, but didn’t know which way to pull. Here’s the report. Let us go over it, shall we? Where’s your pipe?”
They lit up. Alleyn shoved a carbon copy of the verbatim report on the inquest across to his subordinate.
“First you get straight-out evidence on the operation. Phillips said Sir Derek O’Callaghan, suffering from a ruptured abscess of the appendix, was admitted to the Brook Street hospital. He examined the patient, advised an immediate operation, which, at Lady O’Callaghan’s request, he undertook to perform himself. Peritonitis was found. The anæsthetist was Dr. Roberts, engaged for the job because the usual man was unavailable. Phillips says Roberts used all possible care and he can find no fault in that department. Thoms, the assistant, agrees. So do Sister Marigold and the two nurses. Before he began, Phillips injected hyoscine, his usual procedure for all operations. For this injection he used tablets he brought with him, saying that he preferred them to the solution in the theatre, as hyoscine is an extremely tricky drug. ‘All care taken, no responsibility accepted,’ one feels moved to remark. He prepared the syringe himself. At the end of the operation a concoction prettily named ‘Concentrated Gas-Gangrene Antitoxin,’ used in cases of peritonitis, was injected. The serum, together with a large syringe, was laid out by Nurse Banks before the operation. It was a commercial preparation kept in an ampoule from which she simply filled the syringe. Nurse Harden fetched the syringe and gave it to Thoms, who injected the stuff. Meanwhile Roberts, the anæsthetist, had got all hot and hectic about the patient’s heart and had asked for an injection of camphor, which was prepared and given by the elder nurse. They then tacked up the tear in the tummy and away went the patient. He died an hour later, presumably, one longs to say, of heart-failure, but my medical friends tell me that’s as good as saying ‘he died of dying.’ So we can only murmur humbly ‘he died as the result of an operation which, apart from this little incident, was a howling success.’ ”
“Well,” said Fox, “so far they all agree.”
“Yes, but did you notice that where it came to the bit about Jane Harden fetching the syringe with the anti-gas, as they call it for short, they all went rather warily. She herself looked pretty sick when the coroner asked her about it. Here it is:
“ ‘The coroner: I understand you brought the syringe containing the anti-gas, to Dr. Thoms?
“ ‘Nurse Harden (after a pause): Yes.
“ ‘The Coroner: There was no unusual delay, or anything of that sort?
“ ‘Nurse Harden: I–I did hesitate a moment. The syringe was already full and I paused to make sure it was the right one.
“ ‘The Coroner: Did you not expect to find it prepared?
“ ‘Nurse Harden: I was not sure. I–I wasn’t well, and for a moment I hesitated and then Nurse Banks said it was the large syringe and I brought it to Dr. Thoms.
“ ‘Sir John Phillips, recalled, said that the delay was of no significance. Nurse Harden was unwell and had subsequently fainted.
“ ‘The Coroner: I understand you were personally acquainted with the deceased?
“ ‘Nurse Harden: Yes.’ ”
Alleyn laid down the report.
“That’s the incident,” he said. “It’s all perfectly natural, but I smelt high tension among the expert witnesses, whenever it was mentioned.”
He waited for a movement and then said slowly:
“That incident would never have come out if it hadn’t been for Thoms.”
“I noticed that, sir. Mr. Thoms let it out during his evidence and then looked as if he wished he hadn’t.”
“Yes,” said Alleyn dryly.
Fox eyed him cautiously and then went on:
“That girl must have been in a pretty good fatigue— in the light of what we know, I mean. There was this man to whom she’d been writing — the man she’d gone off with, as far as we can tell. She’d reckoned on some sort of permanent understanding, anyway, according to her letter, and when there was nothing doing she’d said she’d like to kill him and — there he was.”
“Very dramatic,” said Alleyn. “The same line of chat, with a difference, may be applied to Sir John Phillips.”
“That’s so,” admitted Fox. “They may have been in collusion.”
“I’m entirely against any sort of speculation until we get the analyst’s report, Fox. I have not interviewed any of these people. As you know, I thought it best to start no hares before the inquest. I wanted the inquest to be as colourless as possible. The post-mortem may be a wash-out, in which case we’ll want to fade away with the minimum amount of publicity.”
“That’s right,” said Fox heavily. “We’re only noting any points of interest in the evidence that may come in handy for future reference. Exhibit A — Nurse Harden and the anti-gas. Exhibit B — curious behaviour of Nurse Banks while giving evidence. The woman closely resembled a chestnut on the hob. She might have spontaneously combusted at any moment. However, she didn’t, more’s the pity perhaps, but I think she managed to fill the minds of the jury with strange surmises. It struck me that she hadn’t exactly hero-worshipped the late Home Secretary. There was more than a suspicion of a snort in her references to him.”
“Bolshie-minded, perhaps,” ruminated Fox. “Dare say. She looks like that.”
“He may have carried on with her too.”
“Oh, Fox! She does not look like that.”
“People take very strange fancies sometimes, sir.”
“How true that is. No speculations, Foxkin.”
“All right, sir, all right. What about Exhibit C?”
“Exhibit C. In re above. Heavy restraint of the matron, Sister Marigold, when Banks was mentioned. Marigold seemed to me to seethe with suppressed information. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t get me to tell, but, my oath, if wild horses could—?’ ”
“And Sir John himself?”
“Agitato ma non troppo, and unnaturally... This abbreviation business is insidious. Sir John was so anxious to let everybody know he had prepared the hyoscine injection, wasn’t he?”
“Very straightforward of him, I thought,” remarked Fox doubtfully.
“Oh,” said Alleyn vaguely, “so did I. As honest as the day.”
Fox regarded him suspiciously.
“Lady O’Callaghan gave her evidence well,” he said.
“Admirably. But, oh, lummie, how we did hover on the brink of those letters. I’d warned the coroner, who had, of course, read them and thought they were sufficient grounds for a post-mortem. However, he agreed it was better they should not come out. He was very coy about the whole thing, anyway, and would have repressed pints of hyoscine— ”
“Hyoscine!” shouted Fox. “Aha — you are thinking of hyoscine!”
“Don’t shriek at me like that; I nearly bit my pipe-stem in half. I’m not thinking particularly of hyoscine. I was about to remark that I was in deadly fear Lady O’Callaghan would drag in the letters. I’d warned her, advised her, implored her not to, but she’s not a Ratsbane for nothing, and you never know.”
“And Thoms?”
“Thoms took the line that the whole show was unnecessary, but he gave his evidence well, appeared to have nothing to conceal apart from his regret over divulging the fainting episode, and seemed to resent the slightest criticism of Phillips.”