in it.”
“Cereal?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you mean by cereal? Do you
mean a breakfast food? Farmer’s Glory or
Wheatifax? Or do you mean corn or
barley—-”
17
“That’s right, sir. Grain it was. Looked
like rye to me. Quite a lot of it.”
“I see … Odd . . . But it might have been a
sample–something to do with a business
deal.”
“Quite so, sir–but I thought I’d better
mention it.”
“Quite right. Hay.”
Inspector Neele sat staring ahead of him for
a few moments after he had replaced the telephone
receiver. His orderly mind was moving
from Phase I to Phase II of the inquiry–from
suspicion of poisoning to certainty of
poisoning. Professor Bernsdorff’s words may
have been unofficial, but Professor Bernsdorff
was not a man to be mistaken in his
beliefs. Rex Fortescue had been poisoned and
the poison had probably been administered
one to three hours before the onset of the first
symptoms. It seemed probable, therefore,
that the office staff could be given a clean bill
of health.
Neele got up and went into the outer office.
A little desultory work was being done but
the typewriters were not going at full speed.
“Miss Griffith? Can I have another word
with you?”
“Certainly, Mr. Neele. Could some of the
18
girls go out to lunch? It’s long past their
regular time. Or would you prefer that we get
something sent in?”
“No. They can go to lunch. But they must
return afterwards.”
“Of course.”
Miss Griffith followed Neele back into the
private office. She sat down in her composed
efficient way.
Without preamble. Inspector Neele said:
“I have heard from St. Jude’s Hospital.
Mr. Fortescue died at 12.43.”
Miss Griffith received the news without
surprise, merely shook her head.
“I was afraid he was very ill,” she said.
She was not, Neele noted, at all distressed.
“Will you please give me particulars of his
home and family?”
“Certainly. I have already tried to get into
communication with Mrs. Fortescue, but it
seems she is out playing golf. She was not
expected home to lunch. There is some uncertainty
as to which course she is playing on.”
She added in an explanatory manner, “They
live at Baydon Heath, you know, which is a
centre for three well-known golf courses.”
Inspector Neele nodded. Baydon Heath
was almost entirely inhabited by rich city
19
men. It had an excellent train service, was
only twenty miles from London and was comparatively
easy to reach by car even in the
rush of morning and evening traffic.
“The exact address, please, and the
telephone number?”
“Baydon Heath 3400. The name of the
house is Yewtree Lodge.”
“What?” The sharp query slipped out
before Inspector Neele could control it. “Did
you say Yewtree Lodge?”
“Yes.”
Miss Griffith looked faintly curious, but
Inspector Neele had himself in hand again.
“Can you give me particulars of his
family?”
“Mrs. Fortescue is his second wife. She is
much younger than he is. They were married
about two years ago. The first Mrs. Fortescue
has been dead a long time. There are two sons
and a daughter of the first marriage. The
daughter lives at home and so does the elder
son who is a partner in the firm. Unfortunately
he is away in the North of England today
on business. He is expected to return tomorrow.”
“When did he go away?”
“The day before yesterday.”
20
“Have you tried to get in touch with him?”
“Yes. After Mr. Fortescue was removed to
hospital I rang up the Midland Hotel in Manchester
where I thought he might be staying,
but he had left early this morning. I believe
he was also going to Sheffield and Leicester,
but I am not sure about that. I can give you
the names of certain firms in those cities
whom he might be visiting.”
Certainly an efficient woman, thought the
Inspector, and if she murdered a man she
would probably murder him very efficiently,
too. But he forced himself to abandon these
speculations and concentrate once more on
Mr. Fortescue’s home front.
“There is a second son you said?”
“Yes. But owing to a disagreement with his
father he lives abroad.”