Poirot said, "One has to consider the living."
Nurse Hopkins said, "But this has got nothing to do with the murder."
Hercule Poirot said gravely, "It may have a great deal to do with it."
He went out of the cottage, leaving Nurse Hopkins with her mouth open, staring after him. He had walked some way when he became aware of hesitating footsteps just behind him. He stopped and turned round.
It was Horlick, the young gardener from Hunterbury. He was looking the picture of embarrassment and twisting his cap round and round in his hands.
"Excuse me, sir. Could I have a word with you?" Horlick spoke with a kind of gulp.
"Certainly. What is it?"
Horlick twisted the cap even more fiercely. He said, averting his eyes and looking the picture of misery and embarrassment, "It's about that car."
"The car that was outside the back gate that morning?"
"Yes, sir. Dr. Lord said this morning that it wasn't his car - but it was, sir."
"You know that for a fact?"
"Yes, sir. Because of the number, sir. It was MSS 2022. I noticed it particular - MSS 2022. You see, we know it in the village, and always call it Miss Tou-Tou! I'm quite sure of it, sir."
Poirot said with a faint smile, "But Dr. Lord says he was over at Withenbury that morning."
Horlick said miserably, "Yes, sir. I heard him. But it was his car, sir. I'll take my oath on that."
Poirot said gently, "Thank you, Horlick, that's just exactly what you may have to do."
Chapter 21
Was it very hot in the court? Or very cold? Elinor Carlisle could not be quite sure. Sometimes she felt burning and immediately after she shivered. She had not heard the end of the Prosecuting Counsel's speech. She had gone back to the past - gone slowly through the whole business again, from the day when that miserable letter came to the moment when that smooth-faced police officer had said with horrible fluency: "You are Elinor Katharine Carlisle. I have here a warrant for your arrest upon the charge of murdering Mary Gerrard by administering poison to her on the 27th of July last, and I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used as evidence at your trial."
Horrible, frightening fluency. She felt caught up in a smooth running, well-oiled machine - inhuman, passionless. And now here she was, standing in the dock in the open glare of publicity, with hundreds of eyes that were neither impersonal nor inhuman, feasting upon her and gloating.
Only the jury did not look at her. Embarrassed, they kept their eyes studiously turned away. She thought, It's because - soon - they know what they're going to say.
Dr. Lord was giving evidence. Was this Peter Lord - that freckled, cheery young doctor who had been so kind and so friendly at Hunterbury? He was very stiff now. Sternly professional. His answers came monotonously. He had been summoned by telephone to Hunterbury Hall; too late for anything to be done; Mary Gerrard had died a few minutes after his arrival; death consistent, in his opinion, with morphia poisoning in one of its less common forms - the "foudroyante" variety.
Sir Edwin Bulmer rose to cross-examine.
"You were the late Mrs. Welman's regular medical attendant?"
"I was."
"During your visits to Hunterbury in June last, you had occasion to see the accused and Mary Gerrard together?"
"Several times."
"What should you say was the manner of the accused to Mary Gerrard?"
"Perfectly pleasant and natural."
Sir Edwin Bulmer said with a slight, disdainful smile, "You never saw any signs of this 'jealous hatred' we have heard so much about?"
Peter Lord, his jaw set, said firmly, "No."
Elinor thought, But he did - he did. He told a lie for me there. He knew.
Peter Lord was succeeded by the police surgeon. His evidence was longer, more detailed. Death was due to morphia poisoning of the "foudroyante" variety. Would he kindly explain the term?
With some enjoyment he did so. Death from morphine poisoning might result in several different ways. The most common was a period of intense excitement followed by drowsiness and narcosis, pupils of eyes contracted. Another not so common form had been named by the French "foudroyante." In these cases deep sleep supervened in a very short time - about ten minutes; the pupils of the eyes were usually dilated.
II
The court had adjourned and sat again. There had been some hours of expert medical testimony.
Dr. Alan Garcia, the distinguished analyst, full of learned terms, spoke with gusto of the stomach contents. Bread, fish paste, tea, presence of morphia - more learned terms and various decimal points. Amount taken by the deceased estimated to be about four grains. Fatal dose could be as low as one grain.
Sir Edwin rose, still bland. "I should like to get it quite clear. You found in the stomach nothing but bread, butter, fish paste, tea, and morphia. There were no other foodstuffs?"
"None."
"That is to say, the deceased had eaten nothing but sandwiches and tea for some considerable time?"
"That is so."
"Was there anything to show in what particular vehicle the morphia had been administered?"
"I don't quite understand."
"I will simplify that question. The morphia could have been taken in the fish paste, or in the bread, or in the butter on the bread, or in the tea, or in the milk that had been added to the tea?"
"Certainly."
"There was no special evidence that the morphia was in the fish paste rather than in the other mediums?"
"No."
"And, in fact, the morphia might have been taken separately - that is to say, not in any vehicle at all? It could have been simply swallowed in its tablet form?"
"That is so, of course."
Sir Edwin sat down.
Sir Samuel Attenbury re-examined.
"Nevertheless, you are of the opinion that, however the morphia was taken, it was taken at the same time as the other food and drink?"
"Yes."
"Thank you." III
Inspector Brill had taken the oath with mechanical fluency. He stood there, soldierly and stolid, reeling off his evidence with practiced ease.
"Summoned to the house. ... The accused said, 'It must have been bad fish paste!' ... search of the premises ... one jar of fish paste washed out was standing on the draining-board in the pantry, another half full ... further search of pantry kitchen. ..."
"What did you find?"
"In a crack behind the table, between the floor-boards, I found a tiny scrap of paper."
The exhibit went to the jury. "What did you take it to be?"
"A fragment off a printed label - such as are used on glass tubes of morphia."
Counsel for the Defence arose with leisurely ease.
He said, "You found this scrap in a crack in the flooring?"
"Yes."
"Part of a label?"
"Yes."
"Did you find the rest of that label?"
"No."
"You did not find any glass tube or any bottle to which that label might have been affixed?"
"No."
"What was the state of that scrap of paper when you found it? Was it clean or dirty?"
"It was quite fresh."
"What do you mean, quite fresh?"
"There was surface dust on it from the flooring, but it was quite clean otherwise."
"It could not have been there for any length of time?" "No, it had found its way there quite recently."
"You would say, then, that it had come there on the actual day you found it - not earlier?"
"Yes."
With a grunt Sir Edwin sat down.
IV
Nurse Hopkins in the box, her face red and self-righteous. All the same, Elinor thought, Nurse Hopkins was not so frightening as Inspector Brill. It was the inhumanity of Inspector Brill that was so paralysing. He was so definitely part of a great machine. Nurse Hopkins had human passions, prejudices.
"Your name is Jessie Hopkins?" "Yes."
"You are a certified District Nurse and you reside at Rose Cottage, Hunterbury?"
"Yes."
"Where were you on the 28th of June last?"
"I was at Hunterbury Hall."
"You had been sent for?"
"Yes. Mrs. Welman had had a stroke - the second. I went to assist Nurse O'Brien until a second nurse could be found."
"Did you take a small attache case with you?"
"Yes."
"Tell the jury what was in it."
"Bandages, dressings, a hypodermic syringe, and certain drugs, including a tube of morphine hydrochloride."
"For what purpose was the morphine there?"
"One of the cases in the village had to have hypodermic injections of morphia morning and evening."
"What were the contents of the tube?"
"There were twenty tablets, each containing half-grain Morphine Hydrochloride."
"What did you do with your attache case?" "I laid it down in the hall."
"That was on the evening of the 28th. When did you next have occasion to look in the case?"
"The following morning about nine o'clock, just as I was preparing to leave the house."
"Was anything missing?"
"The tube of morphine was missing."
"Did you mention this loss?"
"I spoke of it to Nurse O'Brien, the nurse in charge of the patient."
"This case was lying in the hall, where people were in the habit of passing to and fro?"
"Yes."
Sir Samuel paused. Then he said, "You knew the dead girl, Mary Gerrard, intimately?"
"Yes."
"What was your opinion of her?"
"She was a very sweet girl - and a good girl."
"Was she of a happy disposition?"
"Very happy."
"She had no troubles that you know of?"
"No."
"At the time of her death was there anything whatever to worry her or make her unhappy about the future?"
"Nothing."
"She would have had no reason to have taken her own life?"
"No reason at all."
It went on and on - the damning story. How Nurse Hopkins had accompanied Mary to the lodge, the appearance of Elinor, her excitable manner, the invitation to sandwiches, the plate being handed first to Mary. Elinor's suggestion that everything be washed up, and her further suggestion that Nurse Hopkins should come upstairs with her and assist in sorting out clothes.
There were frequent interruptions and objections from Sir Edwin Bulmer.
Elinor thought. Yes, it's all true - and she believes it. She's certain I did it. And every word she says is the truth - that's what's so horrible. It's all true.
Once more, as she looked across the court, she saw the face of Hercule Poirot regarding her thoughtfully - almost kindly. Seeing her with too much knowledge.
The piece of cardboard with the scrap of label pasted on it was handed to the witness.
"Do you know what this is?"
"It's a bit of a label."
"Can you tell the jury what label?"
"Yes - it's a part of a label off a tube of hypodermic tablets. Morphine tablets half-grain - like the one I lost."
"You are sure of that?"
"Of course I'm sure. It's off my tube."
The judge said, "Is there any special mark on it by which you can identify it as the label of the tube you lost?"
"No, my Lord, but it must be the same." "Actually, all you can say is that it is exactly similar?" "Well, yes, that's what I mean." The court adjourned.
Chapter 22
It was another day. Sir Edwin Bulmer was on his feet cross-examining. He was not at all bland now. He said sharply, "This attache case we've heard so much about. On June 28th it was left in the main hall of Hunterbury all night?"
Nurse Hopkins agreed: "Yes."
"Rather a careless thing to do, wasn't it?"
Nurse Hopkins flushed. "Yes, I suppose it was."
"Are you in the habit of leaving dangerous drugs lying about where anyone could get at 'em?"
"No, of course not."
"Oh! You're not? But you did it on this occasion?"
"Yes."
"And it's a fact, isn't it, that anybody in the house could have got at that morphia if they'd wanted to?"
"I suppose so."
"No suppose about it. It is so, isn't it?"
"Well - yes."
"It wasn't only Miss Carlisle who could have got it? Any of the servants could? Or Dr. Lord? Or Mr. Roderick Welman? Or Nurse O'Brien? Or Mary Gerrard herself?"
"I suppose so - yes."
"It is so, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"Was anyone aware you'd got morphia in that case?"
"I don't know."
"Well, did you talk about it to anyone?"
"No."
"So, as a matter of fact, Miss Carlisle couldn't have known that there was any morphia there?"
"She might have looked to see." "That's very unlikely, isn't it?" "I don't know, I'm sure."
"There were people who'd be more likely to know about the morphia than Miss Carlisle. Dr. Lord, for instance. He'd know. You were administering this morphia under his orders, weren't you?"
"Of course."
"Mary Gerrard knew you had it there, too?"
"No, she didn't."
"She was often in your cottage, wasn't she?"
"Not very often."
"I suggest to you that she was there very frequently, and that she, of all the people in the house, would be the most likely to guess that there was morphia in your case."
"I don't agree."
Sir Edwin paused a minute. "You told Nurse O'Brien in the morning that the morphia was missing?"
"Yes."
"I put it to you that what you really said was, 'I have left the morphia at home. I shall have to go back for it.'"
"No, I didn't."
"You didn't suggest that the morphia had been left on the mantelpiece in your cottage?"
