The next morning he reviewed his notes, particularly that part of them which referred to hyoscine.
“Possible sources of hyoscine,” he had written:
“1. The bottle of stock solution.
“Probably Banks, Marigold, Harden, Thoms, Phillips, all had opportunity to get at this. All in theatre before operation. Each could have filled anti-gas syringe with hyoscine. If this was done, someone had since filled up bottle with 10 c.c.’s of the correct solution. No one could have done this during the operation. Could it have been done later? No good looking for prints.
“2. The tablets.
“Phillips could have given an overdose when he prepared the syringe. May have to trace his purchases of h.
“3. The patent medicines.
“(a) ”Fulvitavolts.“ Negligible quantity unless Sage had doctored packet supplied to Ruth. Check up.
“(b) The second p.m. (more p.m.’s!) supplied to Ruth. May have been lethal dose concocted by Sage, hoping to do in O’Callaghan, marry Ruth and the money, and strike a blow for Lenin, Love, and Liberty.”
After contemplating these remarks with some disgust Alleyn went to the hospital, made further arrangements for the reconstruction at five and after a good deal of trouble succeeded in getting no further with the matter of the stock solution. He then visited the firm that supplied Sir John Phillips with drugs and learnt nothing that was of the remotest help. He then lunched and went to call on Lady O’Callaghan. Nash received him with that particular nuance of condescension that hitherto he had reserved for politicians. He was shown into the drawing-room, an apartment of great elegance and no character. Above the mantelpiece hung a portrait in pastel of Cicely O’Callaghan. The artist had dealt competently with the shining texture of the dress and hair, and had made a conscientious map of the face. Alleyn felt he would get about as much change from the original as he would from the picture. She came in, gave him a colourless greeting, and asked him to sit down.
“I’m so sorry to worry you again,” Alleyn began. “It’s a small matter, one of those loose ends that probably mean nothing, but have to be tidied up.”
“Yes. I shall be pleased to give you any help. I hope everything is quite satisfactory?” she said. She might have been talking about a new hot-water system.
“I hope it will be,” rejoined Alleyn. “At the moment we are investigating any possible sources of hyoscine. Lady O’Callaghan, can you tell me if Sir Derek had taken any drugs of any sort at all before the operation?” As she did not answer immediately, he added quickly: “You see, if he had taken any medicine containing hyoscine, it would be necessary to try and arrive at the amount in order to allow for it.”
“Yes,” she said, “I see.”
“Had he, do you know, taken any medicine? Perhaps when the pain was very bad?”
“My husband disliked drugs of all kinds.”
“Then Miss Ruth O’Callaghan’s suggestion about a remedy she was interested in would not appeal to him?”
“No. He thought it rather a foolish suggestion.”
“I’m sorry to hammer away at it like this, but do you think there’s a remote possibility that he did take a dose? I believe Miss O’Callaghan did actually leave some medicine here — something called ‘Fulvitavolts,’ I think she said it was?”
“Yes. She left a packet here.”
“Was it lying about where he might see it?”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember. The servants, perhaps— ” Her voice trailed away. “If it’s at all important— ” she said vaguely.
“It is rather.”
“I am afraid I don’t quite understand why. Obviously my husband was killed at the hospital.”
“That,” said Alleyn, “is one of the theories. The ‘Fulvitavolts’ are of some importance because they contain a small amount of hyoscine. You will understand that we must account for any hyoscine — even the smallest amount — that was given?”
“Yes,” said Lady O’Callaghan. She looked serenely over his head for a few seconds and then added: “I’m afraid I cannot help you. I hope my sister-in-law, who is already upset by what has happened, will not be unnecessarily distressed by suggestions that she was responsible in any way.”
“I hope not,” echoed Alleyn blandly. “Probably, as you say, he did not touch the ‘Fulvitavolts.’ When did Miss O’Callaghan bring them?”
“I believe one night before the operation.”
“Was it the night Sir John Phillips called?”
“That was on the Friday.”
“Yes — was it then, do you remember?”
“I think perhaps it was.”
“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“About Sir John Phillips?”
“No, about Miss O’Callaghan.”
She took a cigarette from a box by her chair. Alleyn jumped up and lit it for her. It rather surprised him to find that she smoked. It gave her an uncanny resemblance to something human.
“Can you remember at all?” he said.
“My sister-in-law often came in after dinner. At times my husband found these visits a little trying. He liked to be quiet in the evenings. I believe on that night he suggested that she should be told he was out. However, she came in. We were in the study.”
“You both saw her, then?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She urged him to try his medicine. He put her off. I told her he expected Sir John Phillips and that we ought to leave them alone. I remember she and I met Sir John in the hall. I thought his manner very odd, as I believe I told you.”
“So you went out, leaving the medicine in the study?”
“I suppose so — yes.”
“Did you come across it again?”
“I don’t think so.”
“May I speak to your butler — Nash, isn’t it?”
“If you think it is any help.” She rang the bell.
Nash came in and waited.
“Mr. Alleyn wants to speak to you, Nash,” said Lady O’Callaghan. Nash turned a respectful eye towards him.
“I want you to think back to the Friday evening before Sir Derek’s operation,” Alleyn began. “Do, you remember that evening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“There were visitors?”
“Yes, sir. Miss O’Callaghan and Sir John Phillips.”
“Exactly. Do you remember noticing a chemist’s parcel anywhere in the study?”
“Yes, sir. Miss O’Callaghan brought it with her, I believe.”
“That’s the one. What happened to it?”
“I had it removed to a cupboard in Sir Derek’s bathroom the following morning, sir.”
“I see. Had it been opened?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“Can you find it now, Nash, do you think?”
“I will ascertain, sir.”
“Do you mind, Lady O’Callaghan?” asked Alleyn apologetically.
“Of course not.”
Nash inclined his head solemnly and left the room. While he was away there was a rather uncomfortable silence. Alleyn, looking very remote and polite, made no effort to break it. Nash returned after a few minutes with the now familiar carton, on a silver salver. Alleyn took it and thanked him. Nash departed.
“Here it is,” said the inspector cheerfully. “Oh, yes, Nash was quite right; it has been opened and — let me see — one powder has been taken. That doesn’t amount to much.” He put the carton in his pocket and turned to Lady O’Callaghan. “It seems ridiculous, I know, to worry about so small a matter, but it’s part of our job to pick up every thread, however unimportant. This, I suppose, was the last effort Miss O’Callaghan made to interest Sir Derek in any remedy?”