A POCKET FULL OF RYE BY AGATHA CHRISTIE

all that—-”

“Oh Vivian, don’t. Don’t go.”

It was quite a wail, and it affected Mr.

Dubois adversely. His retreat quickened.

“Awfully sorry, old girl. Important engagement.

I’m putting up at the Dormy House,

71

by the way. Inspector. Ifyou–er want me for

anything.”

Inspector Neele nodded. He had no wish to

detain Mr. Dubois. But he recognised Mr.

Dubois’s departure for what it was. Mr.

Dubois was running away from trouble.

Adele Fortescue said, in an attempt to carry

off the situation:

“It’s such a shock, to come back and find

the police in the house.”

“I’m sure it must be. But you see, it was

necessary to act promptly in order to obtain

the necessary specimens of foodstuffs, coffee, tea, etc.”

“Tea and coffee? But they’re not poisonous?

I expect it’s the awful bacon we sometimes

get. It’s quite uneatable sometimes.”

“We shall find out, Mrs. Fortescue. Don’t

worry. You’d be surprised at some of the

things that can happen. We once had a case of

digitalis poisoning. It turned out that foxglove

leaves had been picked in mistake for

horseradish.”

“You think something like that could

happen here?”

“We shall know better after the autopsy,

Mrs. Fortescue.”

“The autop–oh I see.” She shivered.

72

The Inspector went on: “You’ve got a lot

of yew round the house, haven’t you, madam.

There’s no possibility, I suppose, of the

berries or leaves having got–mixed up in

anything?”

He was watching her closely. She stared at

him.

“Yew berries? Are they poisonous?”

The wonder seemed a little too wide-eyed

and innocent.

“Children have been known to eat them

with unfortunate results.”

Adele clasped her hands to her head.

“I can’t bear to talk about it any more.

Must I? I want to go and lie down. I can’t

stand any more. Mr. Percival Fortescue will

arrange everything–I can’t–I can’t–it isn’t

fair to ask me.”

“We are getting in touch with Mr. Percival

Fortescue as soon as possible. Unfortunately

he is away in the North of England.

“Oh yes, I forgot.”

“There’s just one other thing, Mrs. Fortescue.

There was a small quantity of grain in

your husband’s pocket. Could you give me

some explanation of that?”

She shook her head. She appeared quite bewildered.

73

“Would anyone have slipped it in there as a

joke?”

“I don’t see why it would be a joke?”

Inspector Neele did not see either. He said:

“I won’t trouble you any further at present,

Mrs. Fortescue. Shall I send one of the maids

to you? Or Miss Dove?”

“What?” The word came abstractedly. He

wondered what she had been thinking about.

She fumbled with her bag and pulled out a

handkerchief. Her voice trembled.

“It’s so awful,” she said unsteadily. “I’m

only just beginning to take it in. I’ve really

been numbed up to now. Poor Rex. Poor dear

Rex.”

She sobbed in a manner that was almost

convincing.

Inspector Neele watched her respectfully

for a moment or two.

“It’s been very sudden, I know,” he said.

“I’ll send someone to you.”

He went towards the door, opened it and

passed through. He paused for a moment

before looking back into the room.

Adele Fortescue still held the handkerchief

to her eyes. The ends of it hung down but did

not quite obscure her mouth. On her lips was

a very faint smile.

74

8

“T” ‘WE got what I could, sir.” So Sergeant

| Hay reporting. “The marmalade, bit of

JLthe ham. Samples of tea, coffee and

sugar, for what they’re worth. Actual brews

have been thrown out by now, of course, but

there’s one point. There was a good lot of

coffee left over and they had it in the servants’

hall at elevenses–that’s important, I

should say.”

“Yes, that’s important. Shows that if he

took it in his coffee, it must have been slipped

into the actual cup.”

“By one of those present. Exactly. I’ve

inquired, cautious like, about this yew

stuff–berries or leaves–there’s been none of

it seen about the house. Nobody seems to

know anything about the cereal in his pocket, either. … It just seems daft to them. Seems

daft to me, too. He doesn’t seem to have been

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