“Yes, Miss Logan,” said Tommy. “We don’t want to tire you, but perhaps you can answer a few questions. The maid, Hannah, is she quite right in her head?”
Miss Logan looked at them with obvious surprise.
“Oh! yes. She is very religious-but there is nothing wrong with her.”
Tommy held out the book he had taken from the table.
“Is this yours, Miss Logan?”
“Yes. It was one of my father’s books. He was a great doctor, one of the pioneers of serum therapeutics.”
The old lady’s voice rang with pride.
“Quite so,” said Tommy. “I thought I knew his name,” he added mendaciously. “This book now, did you lend it to Hannah?”
“To Hannah?” Miss Logan raised herself in bed with indignation. “No, indeed. She wouldn’t understand the first word of it. It is a highly technical book.”
“Yes. I see that. Yet I found it in Hannah’s room.”
“Disgraceful,” said Miss Logan. “I will not have the servants touching my things.”
“Where ought it to be?”
“In the bookshelf in my sitting-room-or-stay, I lent it to Mary. The dear girl is very interested in herbs. She has made one or two experiments in my little kitchen. I have a little place of my own, you know, where I brew liqueurs and make preserves in the old fashioned way. Dear Lucy, Lady Radclyffe, you know, used to swear by my tansy tea-a wonderful thing for a cold in the head. Poor Lucy, she was subject to colds. So is Dennis. Dear boy, his father was my first cousin.”
Tommy interrupted these reminiscences.
“This kitchen of yours? Does anyone else use it except you and Miss Chilcott?”
“Hannah clears up there. And she boils the kettle there for our early morning tea.”
“Thank you, Miss Logan,” said Tommy. “There is nothing more I want to ask you at present. I hope we haven’t tired you too much.”
He left the room and went down the stairs, frowning to himself.
“There is something here, my dear Mr. Ricardo, that I do not understand.”
“I hate this house,” said Tuppence with a shiver. “Let’s go for a good long walk and try to think things out.”
Tommy complied and they set out. First they left the cocktail glass at the doctor’s house and then set off for a good tramp across country discussing the case as they did so.
“It makes it easier somehow if one plays the fool,” said Tommy. “All this Hanaud business. I suppose some people would think I didn’t care. But I do, most awfully. I feel that somehow or other we ought to have prevented this.”
“I think that’s foolish of you,” said Tuppence. “It is not as though we had advised Lois Hargreaves not to go to Scotland Yard or anything like that. Nothing would have induced her to bring the police into the matter. If she hadn’t come to us, she would have done nothing at all.”
“And the result would have been the same. Yes, you are right, Tuppence. It’s morbid to reproach oneself over something one couldn’t help. What I would like to do is to make good now.”
“And that’s not going to be easy.”
“No, it isn’t. There are so many possibilities, and yet all of them seem wild and improbable. Supposing Dennis Radclyffe put the poison in the sandwiches. He knew he would be out to tea. That seems fairly plain sailing.”
“Yes,” said Tuppence, “that’s all right so far. Then we can put against that the fact that he was poisoned himself-so that seems to rule him out. There is one person we mustn’t forget-and that is Hannah.”
“Hannah?”
“People do all sorts of queer things when they have religious mania.”
“She is pretty far gone with it too,” said Tommy. “You ought to drop a word to Dr. Burton about it.”
“It must have come on very rapidly,” said Tuppence. “That is if we go by what Miss Logan said.”
“I believe religious mania does,” said Tommy. “I mean, you go on singing hymns in your bedroom with the door open for years, and then you go suddenly right over the line and become violent.”
“There is certainly more evidence against Hannah than against anybody else,” said Tuppence thoughtfully, “and yet I have an idea-” She stopped.