“It begins to look rather bad for young Charles. You had a good talk with Ellen over the old lady’s illness. Did her symptoms resemble those of arsenic poisoning?” Poirot rubbed his nose.
“It is difficult to say. There was abdominal pain–sickness.” “Of course–that’s it!” “H’m, I am not so sure.” “What poison did it resemble?” “Eh bien, my friend, it resembled not so much poison as disease of the liver and death from that cause!” “Oh, Poirot,” I cried. “It can’t be natural death! It’s got to be murder!” “Oh, Id Id, we seem to have changed places, you and I.” He turned abruptly into a druggist’s shop.
After a long discussion of Poirot’s particular internal troubles, he purchased a small box of indigestion lozenges. Then, when his purchase was wrapped up and he was about to leave the shop, his attention was taken by an attractively wrapped package of Dr.
Loughbarrow’s Liver Capsules.
“Yes, sir, a very good preparation.” The druggist was a middle-aged man of a chatty disposition. “You’ll find them very efficacious.” “Miss Arundell used to take them, I remember.
Miss Emily Arundell.” “Indeed she did, sir. Miss Arundell ofLittiegreen House. A fine old lady, one of the old school. I used to serve her.” “Did she take many patent medicines?” “Not really, sir. Not so many as some elderly ladies I could name. Miss Lawson, now, her companion, the one that’s come into all the money–” Poirot nodded.
“She was a one for this, that, and the other. Pills, lozenges, dyspepsia tablets, digestive mixtures, blood mixtures. Really enjoyed herself among the bottles.” He smiled ruefully. “I wish there were more like her. People nowadays don’t take to medicines as they used. Still, we sell a lot of toilet preparations to make up for it.” “Did Miss Arundell take these Liver Capsules regularly?” “Yes, she’d been taking them for three months, I think, before she died.” “A relative of hers, a Dr. Tanios, came in to have a mixture made up one day, didn’t he?” “Yes, of course, the Greek gentleman that married Miss Arundell’s niece. Yes, a very interesting mixture it was. One I’ve not previously become acquainted with.” The man spoke as of a rare botanical trophy.
“It makes a change, sir, when you get something new. Very interesting combination of drugs, I remember. Of course, the gentleman is a doctor. Very nice he was–a pleasant way with him.” “Did his wife do any shopping here?” “Did she now? I don’t recall. Oh, yes, came in for a sleeping-draught–chloral it was, I remember. A double quantity the prescription was for. It’s always a little difficult for us with hypnotic drugs. You see, most doctors don’t prescribe much at a time.” “Whose prescription was it?” “Her husband’s, I think. Oh, of course, it was quite all right–but, you know, we have to be careful nowadays. Perhaps you don’t know the fact, but if a doctor makes a mistake in a prescription and we make it up in all good faith and anything goes wrong it’s we who have to take the blame–not the doctor.” “That seems very unfair!” “It’s worrying, I’ll admit. Ah, well, I can’t complain. No trouble has come my way– touching wood.” He rapped the counter sharply with his knuckles.
Poirot decided to buy a package of Dr.
Loughbarrow’s Liver Capsules.
“Thank you, sir. Which size–25, 50, 100?” “I suppose the larger ones are better value–but still–” “Have the 50, sir. That’s the size Miss Arundell had. Eight and six.” Poirot agreed, paid over eight and six and (eceived the parcel.
Then we left the shop.
“So Mrs. Tanios bought a sleepingdraught,” I exclaimed as we got out into the street. “An overdose of that would kill any one, wouldn’t it?” “With the greatest of ease.” “Do you think old Miss Arundell—” I was remembering Miss Lawson’s words, “/ dare say she’d murder some one if he told her to!” Poirot shook his head.
“Chloral is a narcotic and a hypnotic.
Used to alleviate pain and as a sleepingdraught.
It can also become a habit.” “Do you think Mrs. Tanios had acquired the habit?” Poirot shook his head perplexedly.
“No, I hardly think so. But it is curious.