She seemed to pull herself together quickly. He heard a stifled sob or two and a rustle as if she had made a violent movement of some sort.
“Better,” she murmured presently. When he turned back to the room she was sitting there, staring at him, as though there had been no break in their conversation.
“There’s not much more,” he began — very businesslike and pleasant. “Nobody accuses you of anything. I simply want to check up on the operation. You did not see Sir Derek from June until he was brought into the theatre. Very well. Beyond these two letters you did not communicate with him in any way whatever? All right. Now the only place where you step into the picture is where you fetched the syringe containing the anti-gas concoction. You delayed. You were faint. You are positive you brought the right syringe?”
“Oh, yes. It was much bigger than the others.”
“Good enough. I’ll look at it presently if I may. Now I understand that the jar, bottle, or pot containing the serum— ”
“It was an ampoule,” said Jane.
“So it was — and the pipkin, cruse, or pottle containing hyoscine were on the table. Could you, feeling all faint and bothered, have possibly sucked up hyoscine by mistake?”
“But, don’t you understand, it was ready!” she said impatiently.
“So I am told, but I’ve got to make sure, you know. You are positive, for instance, that you didn’t squirt out the contents and refill the syringe?”
“Of course — positive.” She spoke with more assurance and less agitation than he had expected.
“You remember getting the syringe? You were not so groggy that you did it more or less blindly?”
That seemed to get home. She looked frightened again.
“I–I was very faint, but I know—oh, I know I made no mistake.”
“Right. Anyone watch you?”
He watched her himself, closely. The light was now very dim, but her face was still lit from the window behind him.
“They — may — have. I didn’t notice.”
“I understand Mr. Thoms complained of the delay. Perhaps he turned to see what you were doing?”
“He’s always watching— I beg your pardon; that’s got nothing to do with it.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Only that Mr. Thoms has rather an offensive trick of staring.”
“Did you happen to notice, before the operation, how much of the hyoscine solution there was in the bottle?”
She thought for some time.
“I think it was full,” she said.
“Has it been used since?”
“Once, I believe.”
“Good.”
He moved away from the window briskly, found the light switch and snapped it down. Jane rose to her feet. Her hands shook and her face was a little marked with tears.
“That’s all,” said Alleyn brightly. “Cheer up, Nurse Harden.”
“I’ll try.”
She hesitated a moment after he had opened the door, looked as if she wanted to say something further, but finally, without another word, left the room.
After she had gone Alleyn stood stock-still and stared at the opposite wall.
At last, catching sight of himself in an ornate mirror, he made a wry face at his own reflection.
“Oh, damn the doings,” said Alleyn.
CHAPTER X
Thoms in the Theatre
Tuesday, the sixteenth. Afternoon.
It was Mr. Thoms who took Alleyn into the theatre.
After Jane left him the inspector had wandered into the hall and run into the plump little surgeon. Alleyn had explained who he was, and Thoms instantly assumed an expression of intense seriousness that made him look rather like a clown pulling a mock-tragic face.
“I say!” he exclaimed. “You’re not here about Sir Derek O’Callaghan’s business, are you?”
“That’s it, Mr. Thoms,” Alleyn rejoined wearily. “The man was murdered.”
Thoms began to babble excitedly. Alleyn held up a long hand.
“Hyoscine. At least a quarter of a grain. Wilful murder,” he said briefly.
“Lor’!” ejaculated Thoms.
“Lor’ it is. I’ve been badgering nurses and now I want to see the theatre of operations. It never struck me till just then what a localised implication that phrase has.”
“See the theatre?” said Thoms. “Yes. Of course. Look here. It’s not in use now. Sir John’s gone out. I’ll show you round if you like.”
“Thank you so much,” said Alleyn.
Thoms talked excitedly as he led the way. “It’s the most amazing thing I ever heard. Damn’ nasty business, too. I hope to God you don’t think I pumped hyoscine into the man. Thought you police chaps must have something up your sleeves when you pushed the inquest. Yes. Well, here we are. This is an anteroom to the theatre, where we wash and dress ourselves up for the business. Along there’s the anæsthetising-room. Here’s the theatre.”
He butted open the swing-doors.
“Wait a bit,” said Alleyn. “Let’s get a sort of picture of the proceedings, may we? Before the operation you and the other medical men forgathered in here.”
“That’s it. Sir John and I came in here together. Dr. Roberts came in for a moment and then went off to the anæsthetising-room, where the patient was brought to him.”
“Anyone else in here during that time?”
“With Phillips and me, you mean? Oh, yes — the matron, Sister Marigold, you know. She does theatre sister. It’s only a small hospital, and she rather fancies herself at the job, does old Marigold. Then, let me see, the other two nurses were dodging about. Thingummy, the Bolshie one, and that pretty girl that did a faint — Harden.”
“What did you all talk about?”
“Talk about?” echoed Thoms. He had a curious trick of gaping at the simplest question as though much taken aback. His eyes popped and his mouth fell open. He then gave a short and, to Alleyn, tiresome guffaw.
“What did we talk about?” he repeated. “Well, let’s see. Oh, I asked Sir John if he had seen the show at the Palladium this week and— ” He stopped short and again his eyes bolted.
“Well — what about it?” asked Alleyn patiently.
“He said he hadn’t,” said Thoms. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable, as though he had nearly said something frightfully improper.
“I missed the Palladium this week,” Alleyn remarked. “It’s particularly good, I hear.”
“Oh,” Thoms mumbled, “not bad. Rather rot really.”
He seemed extraordinarily embarrassed.
“And had Sir John seen the show?” asked Alleyn lightly.
“Er — no, no, he hadn’t.”
“Did you discuss any particular part of it?”
“No. Only mentioned the show — nothing particular.”
There was a long pause during which Thoms whistled under his breath.
“During this time,” said Alleyn as last, “was any one member of the theatre party alone?”
“In here?”
“In here.”
“Let me think,” begged Thoms. Alleyn let him think. “No — no. As far as I remember, we were all here. Then one of the nurses showed Roberts to the anæsthetising-room. That left Sir John and the other two nurses and myself. I went with Marigold into the theatre to look round. That left Sir John and the other nurse — the pretty one — in this room. They were here when I got back. Then Roberts and I washed up while Sir John went into the theatre to fix his hyoscine injection. He always does that and gives it himself. Rum idea. We usually leave all that game to the anæsthetist. Of course, in this instance everything had been very hurried. The patient had not been given the usual morphia and atropine injection. Well, let’s see. The females were dodging about, I suppose. I remember the — what’s-her-hame— the Banks woman asked me why Sir John didn’t use the stock solution.”