with Crump.” She sighed, then said in an
ordinary voice, “What about tea, miss. Who’s
going to clear it away and wash it up?”
“I’ll do that,” said Mary. “I’ll go and do it
now.”
The lights had not been turned on in the
drawing-room though Adele Fortescue was
still sitting on the sofa behind the tea tray.
“Shall I switch the lights on, Mrs.
Fortescue?” Mary asked. Adele did not
answer.
Mary switched on the lights and went
across to the window where she pulled the
curtains across. It was only then that she
turned her head and saw the face of the
130
woman who had sagged back against the
cushions. A half eaten scone spread with
honey was beside her and her tea cup was still
half full. Death had come to Adele Fortescue
suddenly and swiftly.
Ill
“Well?” demanded Inspector Neele impatiently.
The doctor said promptly:
“Cyanide–potassium cyanide probably- in the tea.”
“Cyanide,” muttered Neele.
The doctor looked at him with slight curiosity.
“You’re taking this hard–any special
reason—-”
“She was cast as a murderess,” said Neele.
“And she turns out to be a victim. Hm.
You’ll have to think again, won’t you?”
Neele nodded. His face was bitter and his
jaw was grimly set.
Poisoned! Right under his nose. Taxine in
Rex Fortescue’s breakfast coffee, cyanide in
Adele Fortescue’s tea. Still an intimate family
affair. Or so it seemed.
131
Adele Fortescue, Jennifer Fortescue, Elaine
Fortescue and the newly arrived Lance Fortescue
had had tea together in the library.
Lance had gone up to see Miss Ramsbottom, Jennifer had gone to her own sitting-room to
write letters, Elaine had been the last to leave
the library. According to her Adele had then
been in perfect health and had just been pouring
herself out a last cup of tea.
A last cup of tea! Yes, it had indeed been
her last cup of tea.
And after that a blank twenty minutes, perhaps, until Mary Dove had come into the
room and discovered the body.
And during that twenty minutes—-
Inspector Neele swore to himself and went
out into the kitchen.
Sitting in a chair by the kitchen table, the
vast figure of Mrs. Crump, her belligerence
pricked like a balloon, hardly stirred as he
came in.
“Where’s that girl? Has she come back
yet?”
“Gladys? No–she’s not back—- Won’t be,
I suspect, until eleven o’clock.”
“She made the tea, you say, and took it in.”
“I didn’t touch it, sir, as God’s my witness.
And what’s more I don’t believe Gladys did
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anything she shouldn’t. She wouldn’t do a
thing like that–not Gladys. She’s a good
enough girl, sir–a bit foolish like, that’s
all–not wicked.”
No, Neele did not think that Gladys was
wicked. He did not think that Gladys was a
poisoner. And in any case the cyanide had not
been in the teapot.
“But what made her go off suddenly–like
this? It wasn’t her day out, you say.”
“No, sir, to-morrow’s her day out.”
“Does Crump—-”
Mrs. Crump’s belligerence suddenly
revived. Her voice rose wrathfully.
“Don’t you go fastening anything on
Crump. Crump’s out of it. He went off at
three o’clock–and thankful I am now that he
did. He’s as much out of it as Mr. Percival
himself.”
Percival Fortescue had only just returned
from London–to be greeted by the astounding
news of this second tragedy.
“I wasn’t accusing Crump,” said Neele
mildly. “I just wondered if he knew anything
about Gladys’s plans.”
“She had her best nylons on,” said Mrs.
Crump. “She was up to something. Don’t tell
me! Didn’t cut any sandwiches for tea, either.
133
Adele Fortescue, Jennifer Fortescue, Elaine
Fortescue and the newly arrived Lance Fortescue
had had tea together in the library.
Lance had gone up to see Miss Ramsbottom, Jennifer had gone to her own sitting-room to
write letters, Elaine had been the last to leave
the library. According to her Adele had then
been in perfect health and had just been pouring
herself out a last cup of tea.
A last cup of tea! Yes, it had indeed been
her last cup of tea.
And after that a blank twenty minutes, perhaps, until Mary Dove had come into the