Phillips took his time in replying to this. Then he said courteously:
“Of course, I quite understand. I shall be glad to tell you anything that will help — anxious to do so. I owe it to myself. O’Callaghan came here as my patient. I operated on him. Naturally I shall be one of the possible suspects.”
“I hope we shall dispose of your claims to that position very early in the game. Now, first of all — Sir Derek O’Callaghan, as you told us at the inquest, had been given hyoscine.”
“Certainly. One-hundredth of a grain was injected prior to the operation.”
“Exactly. You approved of this injection, of course?”
“I gave it,” said Phillips evenly.
“So you did. I’m afraid I know absolutely nothing about the properties of this drug. Is it always used in cases of peritonitis?”
“It had nothing to do with peritonitis. It is always my practice to give an injection of hyoscine before operating. It reduces the amount of anæsthetic necessary and the patient is more comfortable afterwards.”
“It is much more generally used nowadays than, say, twenty years ago?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do you mind telling me just how, and at what stage of the proceedings, it is given? This was not stated specifically at the inquest, I think.
“It was given in the anæsthetising-room immediately before the operation and after the patient was under the anæsthetic. A hypodermic syringe was used.”
“Prepared, I imagine, by the nurse in charge of the theatre?”
“In this instance, no. I thought this was all perfectly clear, inspector. I prepared the injection myself.”
“Yes, of course — how stupid I am!” Alleyn exclaimed. “That makes it much simpler for me. What exactly did you do? Dip the syringe in a blue bottle and suck up a dram?”
“Not quite.” Phillips smiled for the first time and produced a cigarette-case. “Shall we sit down?” he said. “And will you smoke?”
“Do you mind if I have one of my own? Good cigarettes are wasted on me.”
They sat on two incredibly uncomfortable chairs under the right elbow of the marble woman.
“As regards the actual solution,” said Phillips, “I used a tablet of a hundredth of a grain. This I dissolved in twenty-five minims of distilled water. There was a stock solution of hyoscine in the theatre which I did not use.”
“Less reliable or something?”
“It’s no doubt perfectly reliable, but hyoscine is a drug that should be used with extreme care. By preparing it myself I am sure of the correct dosage. In most theatres nowadays it’s put out in ampoules. I shall see,” added Phillips grimly, “that this procedure is followed here in future.”
“In this instance you went through the customary routine?”
“I did.”
“Were you alone when you prepared the syringe?”
“There may may have been a nurse in the theatre — I don’t remember.” He paused and then added: “Thoms came in just as I finished.”
“Did he go out with you?”
“I really don’t know. I rather think he returned to the anteroom a few moments later. I left him in the theatre. I went to the anæsthetic-room and gave the injection.”
“Of course, you have no doubt in your own mind about the dosage?”
“I know quite well what you are thinking, Inspector Alleyn. It is a perfectly reasonable suspicion. I am absolutely assured that I dissolved one tablet and one tablet only. I filled the syringe with distilled water, squirted it into a measuring-glass, shook one tablet into my hand, saw that it was a single tablet, and dropped it into the glass.”
Phillips leant back, looked steadily into Alleyn’s eyes, and thrust his hands into his pockets. “I am prepared to swear to that,” he said.
“It’s perfectly clear, sir,” said Alleyn, “and although I had to consider the possibility of a mistake, I realise that even if you had dropped two tablets into the water it would have only meant a dosage of a fiftieth of a grain. Probably the entire contents of the tube would not be a quarter of a grain — the amount estimated.”
For the first time Phillips hesitated. “They are packed in tubes of twenty,” he said at last, “so an entire tube would contain a fifth of a grain of hyoscine.” He felt in his coat pocket and produced a hypodermic case which he handed to Alleyn.
“The actual tube is still in there. I have since used one tablet.”
Alleyn opened the case and took out a glass tube completely covered by its paper label. He pulled out the tiny cork and looked in.
“May I?” he asked, and shook out the contents into his hand. There were eighteen tablets.
“That settles it,” he said cheerfully. “Do you mind if I take these for analysis? Purely a matter of routine, as one says in crime fiction.”
“Do,” said Phillips, looking rather bored.
Alleyn took an envelope from his pocket, put the tablets back into the tube, the tube into the envelope, and the envelope into his pocket.
“Thank you so much,” he said. “You’ve been extremely courteous. You’ve no idea how scared we are of experts at the Yard.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, indeed. This must have been a distressing business for you.”
“Very.”
“I believe Sir Derek was a personal friend.”
“I knew him personally — yes.”
“Had you seen much of him recently?”
Phillips did not answer immediately. Then, looking straight in front of him, he said: “What do you call recently?”
“Well — a fortnight or so.”
“I called at his house on the Friday evening before the operation.”
“A professional call?”
“No.”
“Did you think he was heading for a serious illness then?”
“I did not know there was anything the matter with him.”
“He did not mention a patent medicine?”
“No,” said Phillips sharply. “What is this about patent medicines?”
“Merely a point that arises.”
“If there is any question of his taking a drug,” said Phillips more cordially, “it should be gone into most thoroughly.”
“That is my view,” Alleyn answered coolly.
“He may,” Phillips went on, “have had an idiosyncrasy for hyoscine and if he had been taking it— ”
“Exactly.”
The two men seemed to have changed positions. It was the surgeon who now made the advances. Alleyn was polite and withdrawn.
“Is there any evidence that O’Callaghan had taken a patent medicine?”
“It’s possible.”
“Damn’ fool!” ejaculated Phillips.
“Strange he didn’t tell you he was ill on the Friday.”
“He — I—we discussed another matter altogether.”
“Would you care to tell me what it was?”
“It was purely personal.”
“Sir John,” said Alleyn mildly, “I think I should let you know at once that I have seen your letter to Sir Derek.”
Phillips’s head jerked up as though he had come suddenly face to face with a threatening obstacle. He did not speak for perhaps half a minute and then he said very softly:
“Do you enjoy reading other people’s private correspondence?”
“About as much as you enjoy glaring into a septic abdomen, I should think,” rejoined Alleyn. “It has a technical interest.”
“I suppose you’ve spoken to the butler?”
“Would you like to give me your own explanation of the business?”
“No,” said Phillips. “No.”
“Speaking unofficially — a thing I am far too prone to do — I am extremely sorry for you, Sir John.”